


Debt

by Poppelganger



Series: Playing Favorites [2]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Impersonation, Life Debt, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:14:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 31,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poppelganger/pseuds/Poppelganger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After he pays for an operation that saves your life, you find yourself indebted to Izaya Orihara.  What he asks for in return brings you face-to-face with Ikebukuro's strongest man and straight into the path of flying debris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do something like "Samsara" again, but different. So here it is, with a bit of Shizuo thrown in to make things even more complicated.
> 
> Also, for the first chapter, Izaya may seem to be acting very out of character. This is on purpose and won't last very long.

The circumstances that got you to Izaya Orihara's doorstep do not in any way constitute a short story, nor should they.  

It started a long time ago, really, back to your upbringing and your well-meaning parents who probably never imagined that you would be in this situation one day.  You're not the type of person to ask for things, and you never have been, because at one point in your life, you had nothing.  When you were just a girl, your father would take you to the little fishing village he worked at a few hours away.  At night, you would lay side by side in the grass and he would map the sky for you, pointing out constellations and planets, teaching you the phases of the moon.  Other children your age went to amusement parks and got toys for their birthdays, but your family didn't have the money for those kinds of things, so instead, you went to the fishing village and looked up at the sky at night.  You didn't mind, really.  You could get by without the things your classmates had.  You were fine knowing that there was no inheritance waiting for you.  The time you spent with your family was all you really wanted anyway.

Though you had little to begin with, you had even less when your father went to sea and never came home, lost to a sudden storm.  It was a hard time for you and your mother, but you managed.  You couldn't see the stars at night from the apartment balcony in the middle of the city, but you had the night sky memorized.  You knew where every constellation was on every day of the year, and you imagined them there behind the wall of city lights, twinkling in the dark so far away.

After a field trip to a planetarium in junior high, you asked for something for the first time in your life.  "Mom, I want to be an astronomer," you said when you came home that day, and your mother, her eyes rimmed by deep, dark lines from long shifts at her second job, only smiled.  She did not tell you to give up, nor did she tell you that you were being unreasonable and that there was no way she could send you to college.  She told you that you would have to work hard, embraced you, and wished you luck.

So you did.

You worked harder than anyone, wanted it more than anyone, and in the end it paid off; you were accepted to Osaka University with a full-ride scholarship.  When the acceptance letter came, your mother was weeping tears of joy and she told you that you did it, and that you could do anything.  Your first year came and went and you were looking forward to the rest of your life, and that is precisely when it screeched to a halt, because that's when you got sick.

It's all a blur now, lying in a hospital bed with cords and wires and life support jammed into your veins.  Your mother tried not to cry around you, but you knew she did it as soon as she left.  She couldn't afford the operation that you needed, and your chances of survival without it were slim.  And then suddenly, a few weeks later, you were being wheeled into surgery, not conscious enough to understand the doctors when they mentioned that someone had covered it and intended to take care of the rest of your expenses.  

When you were lucid enough to think about it, you were so happy you could cry.  A stranger's random act of kindness had saved your life and allowed you continue without worrying how you or your mother would pay for it all.  You don't believe in being ungrateful, so when you were discharged, you asked your doctor if there was some way to find your anonymous donor.  The doctor told you he would see what he could do, and eventually returned with the information you needed.  One sheet of paper with starred-out credit card numbers, an address, and a name printed neatly at the top was the only thing you really cared about as you left the hospital for the first time in months.

You're not naive, of course.  You've heard the name Izaya Orihara before, and it's not synonymous with anything good.  But you've only heard things, you've never met the man in person, and after what he did for you, you can't imagine that everything people say is true.  Besides, your parents taught you better than to judge someone based on hearsay.  So after a heart-pounding moment of standing in the hallway of the high-rise apartment complex, you breathe in, breathe out, neatly fold the paper, tuck it away, and you knock, twice.

"It's open," comes the immediate reply, and you're not ready for that, but you push through your hesitation and turn the handle.  

If his loft is any indication, Izaya was easily able to afford your medical expenses, considering the high ceiling, leather couches, and overall "classy" feeling you're getting from just standing in the doorway.  Izaya himself was pushing himself up from an office chair at a desk towards the back of the room.  He's younger than you expected, probably not much older than you.

"How are you?" he asks, arms outstretched and smiling gently, "The hospital called this morning to let me know you'd be discharged today."

"I wanted to thank you," you say, "In person."  You're still standing in his doorway hoping he doesn't think you're some creepy stalker who tracked down his address to show up unannounced--even though that's pretty much what you did--but if that's what he's thinking, he hasn't said as much.  If anything, he looks happy to see you.  

"How precious," he says, "And so unusual nowadays.  Since you came all this way, won't you come in?"

"No, I don't want to impose," you're in the middle of saying as he gently takes your hand and leads you inside, the door shutting behind you.  He brings you to the couch and you sit when he gestures for you to do so.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

You shake your head.  "No thank you."  He sits down to your right, leaving one cushion between you.  "I don't mean to take up a lot of your time, but it's important to me that I get to meet the person who helped me and pay them back."  He raises a brow at this.  "I don't have any money," you admit, "But there has to be something I can do to repay you."

"Oh, don't worry about that," he says, waving you off, "I don't pay much attention to tradition.  You don't need to do anything."

"But I want to," you say, "Mr. Orihara, I'm indebted to you.  I don't believe in not doing anything in return."

This makes him pause.  He looks like he's thinking.  "If you insist," he laughs, "Then I suppose I can't turn you away."  You feel relieved; you weren't sure how you would face your mother if you told her that you couldn't do anything for the person who paid for the operation.  She would probably tell you to go back and try again.  He smiles at you.  "There is something you could do for me."

"Great!" you say, and he rubs the back of his neck hesitantly.

"Well, it's a bit of an odd request, actually.  If you don't want to do it, I won't hold it against you."  

"No, please, tell me," you urge, "It doesn't matter what it is.  I'll do it."  These are the magic words that he needed to hear.

"I need you to impersonate me."  

This makes you pause.  Hoping that your expression doesn't show any hesitation, you say quickly, "Could you elaborate a little bit?"

"I work in the area as a," he pauses here, "Consultant of sorts.  But lately, a former business associate has been giving me a hard time.  Nothing dangerous, just keeping me preoccupied when I'm trying to work.  If you could pretend to be me and indulge him in conversation so I can actually get work done, that would be a great help to me."

You agree to do it right away and he smiles approvingly, suddenly standing off the couch to whisk you off into what you assume to be his bedroom.  He stands you in front of a full-length mirror and you look carefully from yourself to Izaya.  Posing as him in appearance alone would be surprisingly easy; you already resemble each other a bit.  You both have narrow, dark eyes and have a similar skin tone, and if you dressed the same, someone might mistake you for him in a crowd.  It could work.  He sees the gears turn in your head and grins.  "Do you think you could do it?" he asks, and you nod.

"I just need to cut my hair.  The only problem is that I don't know you very well, so I don't know if I can talk like you."

"That just takes practice," he assures you, "Can I ask you to come here whenever you're free for the next few weeks?"  Of course, you agree to this, as well.  Izaya looks truly grateful and your heart swells with joy.  

*

You come by everyday in the early afternoon, and continue to do so even after school starts up again.  Izaya is a bit eccentric, and you soon adopt all of his eccentricities and mannerisms as practice.  These sessions last for hours, into the late hours of the night, as he gives you a situation and you come up with a proper response, or he has you walk the length of the room the way he would.  "Leave your arms at your sides," he says, walking beside you.  He gently cups your chin and turns your head up a bit.  "And look a little higher."  You don't mind any of it, because you know this is only preparation for paying off your metaphorical debt.  Won't your mother be proud when she learns that you managed to pay back such a large favor?

You make faces in the mirror.  You smile, you smirk, you frown in mock displeasure.  Earlier in the week, Izaya had a friend come over to trim your hair, and they looked at you almost pityingly as long, dark strands fell onto the floor.  You told them you didn't mind, even though you liked your long hair, because hair was of such little importance compared to so many other things in life.  The pity never left their eyes, but you shrugged it off.

And now, several weeks later, Izaya has given you his clothes--a fur-lined hooded jacket, a t-shirt and pants, varying shades of black and gray--and bindings for your chest, and after being ushered into the bathroom to try it all on, you come out looking like his doppelganger and he grins.  When you manage to perfectly mirror his expressions, he laughs and says, "Perfect!  Absolutely perfect!" and spins you in a circle in excitement.  "Are you ready?" he asks, "I have a job tomorrow in Ikebukuro."

You've been ready for days, and tell him as much.

"Good.  Oh, but there are a few things I should tell you," he says, "I really don't think you'll run into any problems, but if something does go wrong, I want you to go to the station and catch the A-line."  He hands you a small square of paper with an address printed on it.  "Like I said, I don't foresee anything bad happening, but just in case, the person there will be able to help you."  He smiles.  "We're old friends."  Izaya stares for a moment and then pats your head like you did something amusing.  "And that's everything.  Just spend the afternoon downtown tomorrow."

"I understand," you tell him, eager to show him that all of your practice has paid off.  It has crossed your mind at this point just how strange the entire situation is, but it could be worse.  He could've been unpleasant or unreasonable in his request, and though the favor is odd, you don't mind spending a few afternoons in Ikebukuro.  "I'll do my best."

"Oh," he says again as you turn to leave, "And do you remember the proper way to address the person we were talking about?"  

You glance at him over your shoulder and easily put on a practiced smirk and narrow your eyes, purring, "Shizu-chan."  

He smiles at you approvingly.  You can't wait for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was reading back over this, I kept thinking to myself, "Oh, reader-chan, you are so dumb. SO DUMB." Don't worry, you get smarter pretty quick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to my reviewer, TooLazy, whose enthusiasm was contagious! I'm glad you're excited for the story. :)

It's Thursday afternoon, and you are in Izaya's bathroom changing into his clothes.

Your morning was nerve-wracking; you could hardly pay attention in class, anticipating your first day of paying him back and wondering if you could really do it.  Of course you weren't going to just back out now.  You weren't spineless, not to mention it was far too late for that, anyway.  But you couldn't help but feel nervous now that you were actually about to do it.  What if something goes wrong?  What if someone knows you aren't actually Izaya, and you just cause him more problems?  You can't bear the thought of disappointing the person who saved your life, so you take a deep breath, clear your mind, and practice a smirk in the mirror.

Izaya has emphasized the importance of this particular expression, claiming it's a face he makes often in the presence of the person known only to you as "Shizu-chan."  You've been trying to imagine what they might be like.  The use of a diminutive honorific makes you think that it's an old friend of Izaya's, if not someone much younger.  A friend seems likely, you think, perhaps bothering him without realizing he's even causing problems and Izaya is just too polite to tell him.

You leave yourself there with your clothing, in Izaya's bathroom, and come out as a perfect mirror image of the man waiting for you.  The surreal nature of this entire situation is not lost on you, but you've already decided that you won't change your mind, no matter what happens.  You resist the urge to ask if you look okay; Izaya would never do that.

"You look ready for a night on the town," he says with a grin, "You're just missing one thing."  He hands you a knife.

You're taken aback momentarily, but recover quickly, masking your surprise with indifference and wordlessly taking it from him.

"Just in case," he says mischievously, somewhere in his words a joke you're not catching.  You take it at face value; whatever it's "just in case" of isn't relevant to paying him back, so you push it to the back of your mind and put the knife in your pocket.

*

You leave an hour before Izaya.  The plan is to just walk around downtown Ikebukuro for a while, hopefully run into "Shizu-chan," and head back to Izaya's for your things before dark.  You've never really spent time in Ikebukuro before, so you're looking forward to an excuse to do so.  Despite your anxiety, you manage to maintain a calm facade.

Nobody approaches you in Ikebukuro, but some people stare and even more seem to go out of their way to avoid crossing paths with you.  You're discreetly window shopping and just starting to feel a little more confident when some huge appliance falls out of the sky just a few inches from your face.  

You freeze.  There is a vending machine, the front panel shattered and various broken bottles leaking inside, in front of you on the sidewalk.  You were not told how to react if something like this should happen, but you assume that Izaya wouldn't be fazed--he's not fazed by anything else, so why would this bother him?--and you struggle to calm your quickly-beating heart.

Just as you're trying to figure out where the hell it came from, you hear someone running in your direction and a drawn out shout of, "IIIIIIIIZAAAAAAYAAAAAA!!"

You turn to see a man quickly approaching and he doesn't look happy to see you.  You hold your ground and, just to be sure, crack a small smile and say, "Oh, is that you, Shizu-chan?" just to be sure.  He practically roars in anger and rips the nearest yield sign out of the ground, and you forget about keeping up appearances.

You run down streets that you barely know, zipping through crowds of people that are unfortunately dispersing as you approach, likely no more interested than you are in dealing with "Shizu-chan."  The monstrous man behind you is persistent, chasing you, yelling at you to get the hell out of Ikebukuro, and throwing anything he comes across, and you're saved from being crushed by some other large electronic by dashing into a narrow alley.  

It doesn't take you any time at all to realize that you're completely lost.  You don't know how to get to the only designated "safe zone" that Izaya gave you without going back to the station, and you're so turned around and scared that you don't think you could find it.  Veering onto a smaller side street, you screech to a stop when a red sign, ironically bearing the word "STOP" on it, lands directly in front of you.  If you survive, you'll reflect on this and laugh, but it's not very funny right now.  You dare to glance over your shoulder, and see the man, tall, blond, wearing a suit, closing in.

"How many times to I have to tell you not to come back here?" he growls.

You're so afraid for your life that you feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and you desperately fight them back.  Izaya wouldn't cry, would he?  Even if he were facing something like this?  Remembering the last safety precaution you were given, you produce Izaya's knife from your pocket and hold it in front of you in what you hope is a threatening gesture.  Shizu-chan raises a brow at it.  This is a man who can pick up and throw vending machines; you might as well be threatening him with a kitten.

"You should know better than that," he says, and when he takes a step closer, you can't hide your fear any more.  A tear slips down your cheek, and he doesn't miss it, freezing mid-stride and looking confused.  "What the hell...?"  Your fight-or-flight response kicks in at the opening, and you sprint past him and down the street of Ikebukuro until they look familiar again.  

You don't wait until sunset to go back to Izaya's.

*

Izaya isn't back yet.  You head straight for the bathroom where you left your things and throw off his clothes, hurriedly tugging your own back on before going back out into the living room and collapsing on the couch in a sobbing mess.  You thought for sure you were going to die today.  You should have known better than to just jump in like that, but how could you have known that Izaya's strange favor would endanger your life?  

It couldn't have been half an hour later when the front door opened and the man himself walked in.  "I'm home," he called, sounding pleased, "I wasn't bothered even once today!  How did it go?"  You don't answer or even roll over to look at him.  You hear him approach, sitting on the far end of the sofa near your feet.  "What's the matter?"

It takes you a minute to find your voice and the right words.  "Why would you do that to me, Mr. Orihara?" you ask softly, "Why didn't you tell me that somebody wants to kill you?  I almost died."  You saw him smile out of the corner of your eye.

"I'm sorry, it completely slipped my mind," he says, sarcasm evident, "That means you ran into Shizu-chan, right?"

You don't answer right away.  "Is there some other way I can pay you back?"

"Hm?" Izaya asks, "What was that?  If I heard you right, you sound ungrateful that I saved your life."

You sit up right away.  "No, that's not it," you say hurriedly, "I'm not ungrateful.  I'm  _very_ grateful!  But...this is too much.  There's got to be something else I can do."

"I don't think you understand your situation."  You're on your back again, this time with Izaya towering over you, holding your arms at your sides and leaning in close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips.  "You're in debt to me," he says quietly, his tone sinister and in no way matching the smile he wears, "And I'm not talking about the money.  You owe me your  _life._ So unless you'd like me to collect, you'll do exactly what I tell you to do."  You don't breathe until he lets go and sits up, giving you space.  "You're a smart girl, aren't you?  You won't go and tell someone about this, will you?"  You shake your head.  "Good.  Then I can expect to see you again tomorrow afternoon."  You nod.  He stands up from the couch.  "From now on, you're going to come here after school, change, and go to Ikebukuro.  If you're good, then maybe we can see about changing the terms of what you owe me.  How does that sound?"

You have no choice but to agree.  Mutely gathering your belongings into your bag, you head for the door, only to be stopped by Izaya who says, "Oh, and next time, try to stay a bit longer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't intend to paint Izaya the bad guy 100%, but he definitely didn't have the best intentions in mind when he saved you, and that's going to be apparent from now on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to BardsAmbrosia and Misaki! Thank you for your comments :)

You think about going to the police.  You're not sure how, but what Izaya is doing must be illegal in  _some_ way.  But your haste has gotten you in trouble once already, so you decide to be a little more careful this time.  You haven't breathed a word of this to your mother yet; she knows someone paid for medical bills, and that you were working on repaying them, and that's all the more you've told her.  Telling her that your savior only did so to put you in debt for the rest of your life and set you up in bizarre, convoluted "favors" would probably freak her out, so you keep that to yourself. _  
_

So instead, you ask around.  People tend to be hesitant at first, especially since your hair cut is identical to Izaya's and if you dress a little more ambiguously sometimes a person will leave before you get a chance to say anything.  When people tell you things about him now, you listen, and aren't blinded by optimism and _"Oh, he can't really be that bad,"_ kinds of thoughts.  Depending on who you ask, Izaya is a monster, a shrewd business man or someone worth following, though the latter answer is only given to you by a trio of girls in dark eye shadow and frilled dresses, and the way they say his name--a sigh of reverence--makes you a little uncomfortable.

"Shizu-chan," you find out, is actually Shizuo Heiwajima, the strongest man in Ikebukuro.  Despite his supposed good looks--which you didn't notice when you were running for your life--he has a bit of a short fuse, and when something sets him off, it's pretty typical to see him launch into homicidal rampages.  There's apparently some kind of history between him and Izaya, as the two of them encountering each other on the streets of Ikebukuro tends to lead to severe property damage, though you don't get a clear answer on what exactly that history includes.  Not that it matters; one of them is a megalomaniac who makes a living off of selling secrets while the other is provoked to superhuman violence at the drop of a hat.  Neither of them are the kind of people you should get involved with, but they're both people you're going to be seeing every day for at least a while.

At least until you figure out how to get out of your deal with Izaya.

And that's another mess all by itself.  The man's an informant; you probably wouldn't be safe if you left the country, much less the region.  And while your unfortunately deeply-ingrained desire to repay all favors has made you feel a little guilty for giving so much time to trying to find a way out of this mess, you only need to remind yourself what kind of person Izaya is and what he's willing to put you through to make you feel a lot better.  

At the end of the day, though, you still have to go back to Izaya's and get ready for another afternoon of testing your reflexes.  You've only been doing it for a few days so far, and you've gotten better at finding cover and hiding places.  Shizuo, however, has been getting quicker at finding you, apparently expecting your visits, and you're literally only a few steps away from the train station when you hear something whizzing through the air towards you and duck out of the way of an air conditioning unit.  That's the thing about Shizuo--you can come up with all the clever tactics and routes of escape you want, but once he's making a beeline for you and throwing everything in arm's reach, nailed to the ground or not, you tend to forget your plans and just panic.  This time, you turn right back around and make a run for the train that's coming in.

You hear Shizuo give a yell of surprise behind you, probably not expecting you--or Izaya, rather--to give up so quickly, but you could care less about the informant's reputation.  You think you lose him in the crowd of people leaving the train, and get on just as the doors are closing.  You can't go back to Izaya's yet; he's made it clear that he expects you to stay downtown until sunset.  Instead, you take out the square of paper he gave you a few days ago and read over the address and the directions written on it.  Now is as good a time as any to see if this "safe zone" of his is actually safe or just another way to screw you over.

*

This part of Ikebukuro is unfamiliar, largely residential with more apartments and high rises.  Climbing the steps of one complex, you find the right number and hesitate before ringing the buzzer.  There's a pause before you hear footsteps and the door opens just a bit.  The man behind it looks to be about your age with dark hair and glasses.  He looks surprised, though he doesn't immediately slam the door in your face, so you assume that he's at least on better terms with Izaya than Shizuo is.

"Mr. Orihara said I could come here if I was in trouble," you tell him, "Can I come in, please?  I'm not sure if I'm being followed or not."  You're surprised that he allows you inside, shutting the door behind you.  He's wearing a lab coat, and you raise a brow at that.  

"I thought you were Izaya for a second," he says, "And I'm not sure why he told you to come here.  We're not enemies, but we're not exactly close.  I won't turn you away if you need help, though."

You're just glad he's not throwing things at you.  You thank him, and then think with a hint of panic, that you're going to have to pay him back for this somehow.

"If you don't mind my asking, why are you dressed like that?  It's got to be on purpose, right?" he asks.

You nod.  "I'm supposed to pretend to be Mr. Orihara to take attention off of him."  You pause, thinking about Shizuo and wondering if he's turning the place upside down looking for you.  "I'm pretty good at it."

He sits down in the living room and gestures for you to join him, and you take the seat across from him.  "Why would you agree to something so dangerous?"

"I'm indebted to him," you say.

"Indebted?  You mean blackmailed?"

"No.  Yes?  Well...."  You explain your situation, and a look of understanding crosses his face.  

"I see."  He extends a hand with a pitying smile.  "I'm Kishitani, Shinra."  You take his hand and give your name.  "Tell me, do you know what kind of person Izaya is?"

You look at your feet.  "I'm figuring it out as I go."

*

You spend almost an hour with Shinra, just talking, venting your frustration with yourself and your upbringing and your whole situation, and he just smiles and nods and seems almost too interested.  You probably shouldn't be surprised; he's on not-quite-good-but-not-bad terms with Izaya, so he can't be completely normal.  When you notice the sun setting, you apologize for taking up so much of his time and head for the door.

"If you need to hide again, you can come here," he tells you, "Just try not to lead anyone to my door, okay?"

You tell him you'll try not to.

Not too long after that, you're back at Izaya's apartment, back in your own clothes and staring down the informant as he stands in the doorway.  You were hoping to leave before he got back, but you suspect he knows exactly how long it takes to get to and from downtown, or cameras, or something, because he always shows up not long after you.  "How did it go?" he asks with an expectant smile.  He always asks, and you always tell him "fine," even if it wasn't.  "Good.  You know, I've been thinking.  You're still a student, right?  This whole Ikebukuro business has probably made it difficult for you manage your time."

In fact, it has.  You go to class, go straight to Izaya's from campus, spend your day downtown, and don't get back home until late.  Your grades haven't slipped too much, but your in-class performance has suffered a little from how little sleep you've been getting.  You're not sure you want to tell Izaya that, though, so you just shrug.  

"Well, I don't want to inconvenience you," he says, and you can hardly stand the amount of bullshit contained in that one sentence, "So maybe you should come only on the weekend for a while."

You look at him warily.  Having the week to yourself to study and relax and not fear for your life would be nice, but if you don't have class, there's no reason to wait until four in the afternoon to go to Ikebukuro.  You realize that Izaya intends to have you there all day, two days in a row, and you're not sure you can survive that.  It's bad enough when you're exhausted and shaking from running over the course of an afternoon, your legs aching the next day.  Could you really do it for even longer?

Izaya is grinning.  He knows that, for the sake of your grades, you have to.  "Okay," you tell him, thoughts of escape running rampant in your mind.  This can't go on forever.  

You're going to find a way out, or you're going to die trying.


	4. Chapter 4

Neutron stars are incredibly compact.  When compared to other objects in space, they're infinitesimally small, with a radius of only about ten to fifteen kilometers across.  Despite this, they're super dense with a high magnetic field compressed from the original field of their progenitor star.  Although they're tiny pinpricks compared to their main sequence counterparts, they have an escape velocity of almost half the speed of light.  Even if it's not technically impossible, it's not exactly a plausible thing to accomplish.  

Izaya, you decide, is something like a neutron star.

Much smaller than he likes to think he is, made up of and held together by degenerate particles--ha, not really, but the thought makes you laugh--and most importantly, incredibly difficult to get away from.  

But not impossible.

And that's what you have to keep reminding yourself as you approach the weekend.  You don't have to move at the speed of light; just half of that.  Maybe even a third.  So what if nobody's done it yet?  You've beaten out statistics before, and you can do it again.  Watch out, neutron star Izaya, you are going to reach escape velocity and never look back.  

These are the thoughts that occupy your head on Saturday morning as you confidently ride the train into town.  You don't think Shizuo is expecting you so early, and he probably has better things to do than chase you around all day.  You really don't have anything against him--you hardly know him apart from his frightening reputation, and you hear he's actually pretty cool when he's not making attempts on your life.  You've seen pictures of Shizuo when he's calm, and you have to admit, he is kind of cute, maybe even your type, but right now, he thinks you're the person he hates most in the world, so you don't think your chances of scoring a date are very good.

You spend the morning relaxing, sightseeing in downtown Ikebukuro and buying an incredibly cute stuffed animal in hopes that you'll ruin Izaya's image.  You doubt it will; if anything, it'll only enforce his unpredictable nature, but the possibility that it will makes it worth it.  Things go smoothly; no sign of Shizuo for the first few hours.  You catch yourself thinking that it's almost boring and quickly tell yourself to never think that again.  Once, you think you do see him and your heart beats five times faster but nobody comes running when you duck into an alley so you think you're just getting paranoid.  Really, who can blame you?

As nice as it is to wander at a casual pace without a madman at your heels, you find yourself wanting some conversation and wonder if going to Shinra's even without being in mortal danger is okay.  You know you're not going to get any conversation around here; anyone with any sense keeps their distance from you.  The exceptions to this are the members of Izaya's apparent fan club, whom you've been working hard to avoid.  Unfortunately, they can be a little more difficult to spot than Shizuo; some of them dress in Gothic Lolita, some bleach their hair, and some are just meek school girls who are distressingly happy to see you.  You've gotten better at noticing them from afar by now, because you've realized that they all have something in common; they're all broken.

These girls that worship Izaya all have loneliness deep in their eyes, and their desperate smiles never reach their eyes.  It hurts to look at them, so you work to stay even further away from them than from Shizuo.  When you first realized that they all had those eyes, it made you hate Izaya a little more.  Of course, you didn't know the whole situation; maybe he didn't make them like that.  Maybe they were already that way when he found them.  Maybe Izaya had a way of attracting people with nowhere to go and twisting them until they wanted and needed to do things for him and earn his approval.  People like you.

Is that the point, you wonder?  You've been thinking about what Izaya's motivation behind saving you in the first place was.  You doubt it was just to put you in debt forever; any normal person would decide it just wasn't worth it, with everything he's expecting you to do.  Maybe this is a roundabout way of adding another devout follower to his already-sizable flock, though you're not sure why he picked you in the first place when there are so many broken girls in Ikebukuro already.  You think it might be a point of pride, a test he set for himself to see if he can change an ordinary person into someone who is completely dependent and devoted to him.

The thought churns your stomach.  You don't want to be like that.  You're not like that.  You're not orbiting contentedly, you're trying to reach escape velocity.  And you're determined to get there, especially if it means saving yourself from that kind of fate.

*

"What would you rather be doing right now?" Shinra asks you after you both settle in his living room.  You shrug.

"Honestly?  Anything."  It's true.  Homework?  Sure.  Manual labor?  Absolutely.  Underwater basket weaving?  Bring it on.

"Are you thinking about trying to get out of it?"

You look down guiltily.  "Well, yes," you admit, not sure if Shinra will tell Izaya later but not really caring, "And I don't know how yet, but there has to be a way."  He looks sympathetic and opens up his mouth to impart advice when someone suddenly barges through the front door behind you.  

You're pretty sure that door was locked, which could only really mean one thing.

"Where is he?" you hear Shizuo seethe, and quickly get to your feet as he approaches, moving to put both the couch and table between you.  

"Whoa," Shinra says with a nervous laugh, standing between you with his hands up in a pacifying gesture, "Why don't we all just calm down for a minute?"  He is completely ignored by Shizuo, who is looking at you with so much hatred that it makes you want to disappear.  No one has ever looked at you that way.  He hates you so much, he probably wishes he could just hate you to death.  

"You piece of shit, what are you doing here?" he demands.

You've conditioned yourself to stay in character, though the moment the words "Shizu-chan," leave your lips, you're already regretting it.  The look on Shizuo's face shifts instantly from aggravated to furious.

Shinra chooses this moment to intervene, likely to avoid any further damage to his home and having to clean your blood out of his carpet.  "Shizuo, surely you've noticed by now?"  That doesn't make him back down, but he does look to Shinra questioningly.  "Hasn't Izaya been acting strange these past few days?"

Shizuo seems to consider this and looks at you carefully.  "Well, yeah," he says, and you're almost offended that all of your hard work meant nothing if he could tell something was up.

You're sure there'll be hell to pay for Shizuo finding out, but you decide to extend your life a few hours and look down at your feet.  "I'm not Mr. Orihara," you say, raising your voice an octave to your regular tone, and Shizuo's eyes widen.  

"What the hell?"  He narrows his eyes again, seemingly unconvinced.  "You look just like him.  You _sounded_ just like him."

"But I'm not," you insist, "It's kind of a long story, but the short version is that I was supposed to trick you into thinking I was him.  It's part of a debt I owe him."

You see his eyes light up with confusion, then realization, and then embarrassment.  "Oh," he mumbles, "Oh, geez."  

Shinra is still standing between you.  "Are we all good now?" he asks timidly.

"Yeah, we're good," Shizuo says, and you all breathe a collective sigh of relief.

*

Shizuo gets the whole story from Shinra and is visibly angered at your tale of woe.  It doesn't freak you out anymore, though, since you know that anger isn't directed at you.  There's just one problem remaining now, and you make sure to address it.  

"I think Izaya will be upset with me if he knows you found out," you say, "So maybe we should pretend that you haven't."  He waits for you to elaborate.  "Um, I mean, I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't throw stuff at me anymore, but maybe you should still run after me or yell or something.  At least make it look kind of convincing.  I wouldn't be surprised if he has someone watching to see if you react."

Shizuo considers this and nods in agreement.  "Alright," he says, "But I don't feel good about this."

Neither do you, but you'd like to live.  "I'm sorry," you tell him, "I'd rather not do it, either.  But I don't have much of a choice right now."  He begrudgingly agrees.  It's still only the early afternoon.  The sun comes in through Shinra's windows and reflects off of Shizuo's glasses, and when he stands there stoically, hands in his pockets, you finally see in-person the handsome man you've heard about.  You quickly look away.  "Thank you," you say quietly, and he tells you it's not a big deal.

You don't notice, but Shinra is looking at you with a knowing smile.

*

Shizuo leaves Shinra's first, acting as though he hadn't been able to find you, and you leave not long after.  He does a pretty convincing job of chasing you until you're breathless downtown, though you hope the pitying expression on his face goes unnoticed by whomever is reporting back to Izaya.  You duck into a small store for a few minutes and Shizuo finds an excuse to wander off elsewhere, and the rest of the day is quiet.

When you go back to change, Izaya acts no different from usual, waltzing in and asking how the day went, and you assume that you're still in the clear until he refuses to move from the doorway even as you get your things together.  "I've been thinking," he begins, warning you that whatever comes out of his mouth next is not going to be for your benefit, "You've been handling this whole thing pretty well, haven't you?"

"I guess so," you say neutrally.

"Almost too well, really," he continues, "Most people in your situation would have broken down as soon as they realized the gravity of the situation.  Unless you haven't realized yet that when I said 'life debt,' I was not speaking figuratively?"  You swallow anxiously.  "No, you know that already," he muses, "So what is it that's keeping you going?"

"Excuse me," you say, "But it's getting late, and I have to be back early tomorrow."

You regret saying it almost immediately.  What if he makes you stay the night?  Thankfully--or not?--Izaya seems to have something else in mind, because he nods and says, "So you do," and steps into his living room and out of the doorway.  You're not quite into the hallway when you hear him say, "Don't worry, I'll figure out what it is.  And when I do, I'll get rid of it."

You don't bother to engage him in conversation over it and decide to just leave, but his words leave you thinking, because truthfully, you're not sure what's keeping you going.  You probably should give up, really.  Izaya will probably be able to ruin your life some way or another even if you skip town, if he doesn't flat-out kill you.  You're not sure if he would, but you're not particularly willing to test his limits.  You can't tell anyone, aside from your current confidants, about your situation, either.  Maybe it's because you're a big-picture person--comes with the field of expertise, actually.  Astronomy is filled with things so much larger than yourself, so it could be that you're not to worried with the details.  What's an error of a few hundreds?

Well, a lot, actually.  It might not matter when applied to things like the distance between galaxy groups and densities of post-main sequence large stars, but on earth, you can't make a mistake like that.

But for now, if it's going to keep you sane, you might as well just keep your eyes on the big picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wikipedia says that escape velocity for neutron stars is a third of the speed of light and my notes say half, but honestly it depends on the mass and diameter (It should fall somewhere between a third and a half, though)
> 
> And I'm not saying that astronomers are bad at math, but with such huge numbers to work with in terms of time and size, hundreds are nothing. (My professor always joked that he considered 10,000 years to be a "pretty short time.")


	5. Chapter 5

On Sunday, you face a force more distressing than even Shizuo Heiwajima, and there is no escape.  You'd let yourself get careless and gotten cornered in an alley not far from Russia Sushi.  You're not sure you can talk your way out of this, nor do you think drawing the knife is a good idea.  This threat has been much more discreet than Shizuo, observing you from afar in the shadows rather than chasing you down the street, but you've noticed them all the same, heard two pairs of footsteps when there should only be one.  You've known this was coming for a few days now, and here it is, staring at you with big, empty eyes and smiling a desperate smile.

It's one of the girls that takes every word uttered by Izaya Orihara as absolute, one of his many collected, broken girls.  You don't like her eyes; they make your heart hurt and they make you think of a mirror to the future.   _That is what he wants to do to you,_ you think to yourself,  _those will be your eyes if you don't find a way out._

While Izaya has quite a few followers, this one in particular, a mousy high school girl, has been following you since you came to Ikebukuro, and you first worried that it was because she knew you were an impostor.  But when you get a chance to look into her dead eyes and see admiration somewhere in them, you know that she truly believes she's looking at him.  She hasn't been in his clutches as long as the others, though.  The rest know better than to approach him directly without an invitation.  You wonder if it's too late for her.

"Do you remember me?" she asks softly, almost apprehensive.  You wish so badly you knew her name.

"I'm sorry," you say easily wearing a trademark Izaya smile, "You're going to have to remind me."

To your surprise, she isn't disappointed, instead appearing elated that you asked.  

"I'm Hitomi," she says.  You wonder if Izaya finds her absolutely unnerving gaze to be flattering.  "We met last year.  You helped me."

 _You helped me._  You wonder if this girl was also indebted at one time, or if she performed ridiculous favors, and you also wonder what broke her.

"Ah, Hitomi," you sigh, "Silly me, I remember now.  How could I forget?"

She smiles.  You feel a little sick to your stomach.

"Well, Hitomi, did you want something?"  You hope that's the case, and she didn't just stalk you for days to get the chance to remind you that she existed.  

Thankfully, she nods, though she looks at her shoes when she speaks.  "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't bother you," she mumbles, "But I haven't gotten to talk to you in a long time.  I just wanted to thank you for everything that you did for me.  Things were so bad...I don't think I'd even be alive if it weren't for you."  Hitomi's eyes become half-lidded.  She's not smiling anymore.  

You realize you're supposed to say something--probably modestly deflect her thanks--but you can't think of anything.  Hitomi is just like you, vulnerable and weak, and Izaya did the same thing to you both.  Your heart goes out to this girl and all you want to do is tell her to run, leave Ikebukuro, leave Japan, never look back and don't ever have anything to do with Izaya Orihara ever again.  But you can't do that.  You are Izaya right now, and you will continue to be Izaya for the rest of the day to save your own skin for a little while longer.

The thought makes you pause.  Are you really so desperate to get away that you'll push everyone else over to give you more time?  You don't think you have it in you to be that cruel.  Hitomi looks up at you, expecting a response, eyes reflecting pain from many years.  You don't know what happened to her, and you don't know what he did to her, but you know that you're the only one who can help her.

"Hitomi," you say, and she stands up straight and at attention, "Do you know what kind of person I am?"

She says nothing for a moment, and then she says, so quietly you almost don't hear her, "You're wonderful."

"I'm really not."  You force a smile onto your face.  "I'm really a monster.  You know that already, don't you?  You're not really thanking me because I'm wonderful; you're thanking me because there are consequences for not showing gratitude."  Her eyes widen in fear and you turn away from her, hoping it looks natural while trying to stay in character.  You can't look at her anymore.  

She's silent for a long time, and then she laughs nervously.  "O-oh, I get it.  This is a test, right?  Like a test of my loyalty." 

You're glad you're not looking at her when your face scrunches up into confusion.  "What?  No, that's not...."

"You don't have to worry," she insists, "I'm completely loyal to you, mind, body and soul.  I'll do anything you say.  Because I _do_ think you're wonderful."

"Is that right?"

"Yes!"

You collect yourself enough to wear Izaya's sharp smile and turn to face her.  She almost gasps when you look at her.  "Hitomi," you say, "Do you have many friends?"

"A few," she says, not brave enough to look you in the eye.  

"Do you spend much time with them?"

"You told me to be careful because they'll lie to me about you."

"Did I say that?" you laugh.   _Of course he would say that._   "Being able to discern lies from the truth is important," you assure her, "Besides, don't you think avoiding them will just make them worry about you?"

She looks at you warily.  You hope she won't interpret it as another test.  An awkward moment passes before she nods.  "If you say so," she murmurs, and slinks back into the shadows.  

 _It's not too late_ , you think.  You heard her hesitation; she knows what kind of person Izaya is and knows how unhealthy this whole situation is.  If you can just get her away from him, maybe you can help her.

You realize you're going to have to pay for this later, but you aren't immediately worried about it.  There's safety in numbers, after all; maybe it'll be easier for all of you to get away if you try to do it at the same time.  Maybe Izaya will just decide that it's not worth the trouble, and turn you all loose.

You remind yourself not to be blindly optimistic.

*

You run into Shizuo later and want to turn around and pretend you didn't see him but aren't sure that's even an option.  After running into Hitomi and telling her to spend more time with her reasonable friends, you figure you don't need to give Izaya any more fuel to work with.  Genuine frustration flashes across his face, but it's mixed with reluctance.  He doesn't want to chase you, either, so to give him a little motivation, you smirk, walk up to him very slowly until you're within reach, and say in your best impersonation all day, "Hey there, Shizu-chan."

True to his reputation, Shizuo snaps and makes a grab for you and you're sprinting down the street and berating yourself for another stupid idea.  You didn't think he'd just lose it like that, though.  It's like he forgot that you're not actually Izaya.  When you're sure you've lost him, you find an alley to duck into, and then panic when you notice a shadow covering your own and turn to see him blocking the only exit.  

From purposefully provoking a man who can throw vending machines to hiding in a dead end, this is clearly not your finest hour.

You're not sure if anyone can hear or see you, but Shizuo is advancing on you now and there's only so much alley left before you'll have nowhere left to go, so you almost say something when your back hits the wall and Shizuo moves in for the kill.  He fists a hand in your shirt and holds you at-level with him and you've never been more afraid in your life.  "Mr. Heiwajima, it's me," you whimper.  

His expression doesn't change.  He leans forward, face dangerously close to yours, and growls, "Don't ever do that again."

"D-do what?"

"That stunt you pulled back there," he says, "Getting in my face like that and sounding exactly like that asshole."

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, and slowly, he puts you back down.  Turning away from you, Shizuo presses a hand to his face and takes a deep breath.  

"Look," he says, "I agreed to help you.  But you can't piss me off like that.  If I don't calm down and you get hurt...."  He doesn't finish the sentence, inhaling and exhaling slowly, and then leaning back against one of the alley walls.  

"I understand," you say, "I won't do it again.  I just thought you weren't going to chase me, and I don't want him to find out that you know."

"Do you know how he's keeping an eye on you?" Shizuo asks, and you shake your head.  "That would help."

"I know."  You look down.  "I'm sorry about this.  When this is all over, I'll owe you."

"That's how you got into this mess in the first place," he says, sounding annoyed, "You need to stop doing that, and you don't owe me anything.  Just stay away from that guy."

"I have to pay you back," you insist, "I know going to Izaya was a mistake now, but not repaying you would be a mistake.  You've been nothing but good to me."

"How do you know I'm not just using you, like he is?" Shizuo asks suddenly and you look up at him in shock.  "I'm not," he says, softer, "But I meant what I said.  If someone says they don't want you to pay them back, then listen to them."

You want to tell him that it's not that simple--he doesn't know about your background, about all of the favors you're still paying back to the people who helped you achieve your goals now, and come on, he's Japanese, there's an entire culture of perpetual gift-giving and being eternally in debt to somebody--but you don't.  You just nod instead, albeit dejectedly, and there's a short pause before you hear Shizuo sigh.

"If you just bought me lunch or something," he says, "I wouldn't fight you on it."

Your eyes light up.  "Then I'll do that," you promise, "Tomorrow afternoon.  I don't have to dress like this, so it won't be weird.  We can get whatever you want."

"I don't care, it can be cheap."

"I can't treat you to cheap food!"

" _I said_   I don't care."

You're not listening.  You're ecstatic because you still have a chance to clean up your karma after this whole fiasco with Izaya, something to look forward to and make you feel like you did the right thing eventually.  Shizuo gives up trying to tell you anything and just shrugs and mutters, "whatever," to your increasingly elaborate suggestions.

"You know, I don't think I've seen you smile before," he comments, and you think about it.  You suppose he hasn't seen a real smile from you, just Izaya-esque ones.  He's smiling back at you, and his smile is so genuine compared to the one you've been seeing so much of lately you find yourself blushing suddenly.  You self-consciously brush your bangs out of your face and ask, very timidly, for Shizuo's number so you can reach each other, and he gives it to you.

It's on your way home that you realize it; Shizuo is your motivation.  At the end of the day, when everything seems hopeless, you remember that there's someone in your corner who is going to ridiculous lengths to help you with nothing in return (except for the free lunch, but that's a new development).  Shizuo is what's keeping you going, and that makes you feel even better, because you can't think of a better anchor.  Let Izaya try, but you don't think anything could destroy him.  

*

If Izaya notices the hop in your step, he doesn't comment on it.  Your exchange is limited to the usual questions and answers, and he even lets you go without a fuss or any final, unsettling comments, and you wonder if he had a good day, too.  

You should know that a good day for Izaya does not mean a good day for anybody else, but since he chooses not to say anything at that moment, you won't find out until the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm toying around with an idea for another Izaya/Reader story, but I want to get a bit more done with this before I start that one. Something to look forward to!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE early update! :D 
> 
> There's actually some astronomy going on in this chapter! 
> 
> (Not a lot, though.)
> 
> A big thank you to all of my readers and reviewers, old and new. You guys are so awesome that there will be another chapter coming on Saturday, too.

You're starting to think that your desire to pay back perceived debts is compulsive, because you haven't been so excited since the day you got out of the hospital and still thought Izaya was a good person.

But this time is different.  You know it is, because you've actually met Shizuo before becoming indebted to him, and he's nothing like Izaya.  He's very honest--maybe brutally, but it's refreshing--and kind, and he was willing to help you even when you had only spoken a few words to each other.  You can't ignore good deeds, and though you've learned your lesson about looking for the intentions behind them, you don't see anything negative about Shizuo's motives.  Pity, at worst.

"The life cycle of a high mass star ends suddenly and furiously," your professor explains in lecture that day, going through slides of the Hubble Space Telescope's pictures.  "I'm sure you've all heard of supernovae before.  This occurs after these stars have burned through all of their layers, hydrogen to helium to carbon, all the way down to iron, with each interaction happening quicker than the last.  Iron fusion is not self-sustaining because it absorbs energy rather than releases it."  The next slide has a bright image that looks like a red, bloody splatter in the void of space with a dust cloud in the middle.  

"As the iron core collapses in under a fraction of a second, density skyrockets to ten times that of a white dwarf and the temperature reaches more than 10 billion Kelvin.  The collapse of the core reaches 70,000 kilometers per second on its inward fall.  The nuclear force becomes repulsive, with half of the collapsing core suddenly slowing mid-fall and the remaining half slamming into the innermost part of the star, sending a violent shock wave back out.  This is a supernova."

There is a long pause in the lecture hall as he lets you and your classmates absorb the information.  These enormous stars live for millions of years but their deaths ultimately occur in less than a second, leaving behind nothing more than a tiny, neutron-degenerate core.  What comes next depends upon the mass left over, whether it will stabilize or shrink at an accelerated rate until the escape velocity is that of the speed of light.

You're not sure why, but you're thinking about Izaya again.

You'd previously thought that he would be a neutron star, a rapidly-moving, neutron-degenerate object that is very difficult to escape from, but not impossible.  But maybe you jumped the gun; maybe he's more like a regular high mass star star still, living out the end of his days on the main sequence, rapidly burning through his many layers and steadily reaching the point where he will go supernova.  This metaphor makes sense, especially lately, since you haven't heard a word from him all day and can only assume that he'll only need you on the weekend from now on.  This has to be the calm before the storm, you think.  He must be thinking up some other way to make your life more difficult.  He's in the helium-burning phase, which gives you some time, just not as much as you'd like, to think of an escape plan before a very violent chain reaction.

But that's not your main concern today.  Today, you are going to push Izaya and supernovas to the back of your mind because you're treating Shizuo Heiwajima to lunch.  Shizuo really needs some sort of astronomical counterpart, too, because he's a little unstable, and even though you know he doesn't really hate you, the last thing you need to do is inadvertently piss him off.  If you still want to think about supernovae, then Shizuo is probably a type I, stable until receiving matter from a binary star--or being annoyed by somebody--and Izaya is definitely a type II, which needs no provocation to suddenly flare up and detonate, taking everything in the immediate vicinity with him.

*

You and Shizuo agree to meet near Russia Sushi and figure out where to go from there.  You only check your phone for the time once before you see him across the street and wave.  He nods back and approaches, slowing as he gets closer, and stops a few feet away, staring at you.  "What's wrong?" you ask.

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head, "It's just...your haircut."

You frown and push a few stray strands of hair out of your eyes.  There have been no shortage of people who have mistaken you for Izaya for your hair alone.  Shizuo probably finds it off-putting.  You apologize and reach into your purse for a few brightly-colored hair clips.  They're a little tacky--decorated with fruit and cupcakes, the kind of thing younger girls wear--but the store was practically giving them away.  You pin your bangs out of your face and look to Shizuo.  "Is that better?" you ask.

He continues to stare and you sigh in frustration.  "Look, I'll let it grow out as soon as soon as I can," you say and reach to take the hair clips out but Shizuo grabs your wrist to stop you.  You both freeze, and now you stare up at him.  

"It's fine," he says, releasing you and turning to look at Russia Sushi.  "How about here?"

"Okay."  You've never eaten here before--honestly, you've been a little scared to try--but it's Shizuo's choice.  You hope he's not embarrassed to be seen with you with your hair looking the way it does; when he grabbed your wrist like that, he was definitely blushing.

The man who's always yelling for customers perks up immediately when he sees the two of you walk in and seats you right away, bringing menus and water.  There aren't a lot of people there for lunch, so you have the back corner all to yourselves.  You're not sure what to get, so you ask for a recommendation from Shizuo, which he gives you in as few syllables as possible.  "Have you been here before?" you ask, and he nods and grunts in the affirmative.  

You try a few more times to engage him in conversation, though he repeatedly reinforces that he is a man of few words.  You don't take it personally; the two of you are acquaintances, not friends, and this is just a way to repay a favor.  You'd appreciate it if he could at least pretend he was enjoying himself, though.  The silence between you is broken suddenly when one of the chefs--the really,  _really_ tall one--comes back with your food.  "Is good to see you with girlfriend," is the first thing he says to Shizuo, and you both drop your chopsticks on the table at the same time.  

"What?  No, it's not...."

"She's not...."

"I'm not...."

" _We're not_ \--!"

You look at each other, faces red, practically racing each other to see who can come up with the best excuse.  "We hardly know each other," you say, and he nods.

The chef nods.  "I see, I see," he says seriously, but he's smiling.  When he leaves, you both relax, no longer on the defensive.  Neither of you say anything for a minute, determined not to make the moment any more awkward than it is already.  Shizuo eats in silence for a little bit, and then suddenly mutters, "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," you say, poking at one of the rolls on your plate.  The only thing you recognize in it is rice.  "We don't want anyone to get the wrong idea."

"Right."

It's quiet again.  You decide to take a bite and are pleasantly surprised.  You don't know what you're eating, but you suppose it's pretty good.  

"You're not offended or anything, right?"  

"Should I be?"

"No," he says, "I just don't want  _you_ to get the wrong idea, either.  I'm sure you're a nice girl, and you're not... _not_ cute or anything, it's just...."  He covers his face with his hands.  "Shit, just forget I said anything."

"It's okay," you say, not sure how to feel and settling on just feeling embarrassed.  

"You can..."  He looks really reluctant to say anything, but eventually forges on, "Tell me about yourself.  Or something.  If you want."  You look up at him and he's immediately on the defensive again.  "You said earlier, we hardly know each other."

"Yeah."  You shrug.  "I don't have the most exciting life.  Apart from dealing with you-know-who."

"Do you go to school?  Or do you work?"

"School.  I go to Osaka University."

He raises a brow.  "And you come all the way to Ikebukuro every day?  That's, what, a three hour commute?"

"It hasn't been easy," you admit, "But I have to do it right now."

He seems to consider this for a moment.  "What are you studying?"

"Astronomy."

"How'd you get into that?"

"My dad," you say, "He worked in a fishing village a few prefectures north of here.  When I was little, he'd bring me with on the weekends, and we'd sit outside at night.  Star gazing was one of his hobbies, so he used to point out which stars were which.  He knew all of the stories."  You smile to yourself when you remember those days.  "He'd say things like, 'There's Lyra, the lyre from the story of Orpheus.  And that star on the right there is Vega, but we call her Orihime.  She fell in love with a cattle herder, and her father was so angry when he found out that he separated them and put them on opposite sides of the Celestial River.'"

Shizuo is quiet for a long time, even after you finish talking.  "He's probably proud of you," he says, "Going to school for astronomy."

You nod.  "I think he probably would be," you say quietly.  Shizuo picks up on your wording but doesn't ask for clarification.  "So what about you?  What kinds of things do you do?"

"Work," he says with a shrug.

"Oh, where do you work?"

"Ikebukuro."  He doesn't seem willing to tell you much, and you respect that, albeit with a bit of disappointment since you talked about yourself for a while.  "Why is it," he asks, "That you're so focused on repaying people?"

"My family has never had a lot of money," you tell him, "We went without a lot of things.  I remember one winter it was really cold, and none of us had coats.  One of our neighbors gave my mom one of their children's old winter coats, and my mom started to cry.  She got on her knees and bowed and thanked them for a minute straight.  When you have so little, everything is worth more.  I was raised like that; things that other people might think are small, like a coat, are much more important to me."  You pause.  "I'm not trying to say that people who have more are ungrateful.  It's just that my circumstances are different, that's all."

"I get it," he says gently.  You look up at his eyes and you see that he does.  

"Ah.  Well," you say, embarrassed again, and finish the last of your sushi, "It's not like I chose the best career path, either.  You'd think I would've gone into business or something if I wanted to be able to make it."  He doesn't comment.  He seems to be lost in thought.

The chef returns to take your plates and gives you the bill, but before you can read it, Shizuo swipes it off the table.  "Wait," you say, "I didn't tell you that so you'd pay for the food."

"I know."

You frown.  "So give it back."

"No."  He pulls out his wallet.

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me."

"I don't," he snaps, and then sighs.  "I mean, I do, but not....dammit."

"It's fine.  But I'm supposed to pay."  He still doesn't let you.  When the chef comes back, Shizuo shoves your money back across the table towards you and hands him his card instead.  "Mr. Heiwajima, the whole point of this was so I could repay you!"

"You'll just have to treat me again," he says with a shrug, "And next time, you can pay for it."

"But now I owe you _two_ lunches."

"No, just one.  It's fine."

"You don't understand how this works."

"I do," he says, smiling.  You think he might be having fun and can't help but smile yourself.  Your face is warm; you think you might be blushing.

"Hey, do you mind," you mumble, getting your phone out, "If we took a picture together?"

He looks confused.

"You don't have to," you say quickly, "I just...thought...."

"It's fine," he saves you from your floundering.

You come around to the other side of the table and scoot next to Shizuo, keeping an inch or two between you, but when you hold your phone up in front of you, he closes the distance and you're really blushing now.  "Thank you," you say softly, and he just shrugs.  You know you're going to keep this picture forever.

Shizuo goes back to work--he never tells you where, just that his lunch break is over--and you're so happy you're practically skipping down the sidewalk.  Not only did you have a relaxing, normal day in Ikebukuro, but you got to eat lunch with a nice, handsome guy and even got a picture with him.  Not even high mass-neutron star-supernova Izaya could ruin your good mood today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only way to go on a date with Shizuo is awkwardly.
> 
> Not that this was a date.
> 
> No way.
> 
> Of course not.
> 
> What are you talking about?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is your regularly-scheduled Saturday update.
> 
> Things have been pretty smooth sailing for Reader-chan so far, but Izaya is in this story, so it's about to get worse.

You get a call from your mother in Shinjuku, and what begins as a cheerful conversation quickly turns somber when she lets it slip that she's in debt.  This isn't really anything unexpected; your family has been in debt for your entire life to some group or another, sometimes managing to stay up for a few months before drowning in it again.  Your mother works hard, she really does, but there are old debts from when your father was still alive, and debts from when he died, and those resurface now and then to haunt you and your mother.  She doesn't like to tell you, but sometimes it comes out when you notice that she's quiet or sounds choked.

You would give her money if you had enough, though she would doubtlessly reject it, but the rail pass you picked up when you started running back and forth from Ikebukuro is still good for a while longer, so you tell her that you're going to come visit.  Your mother discourages the visit but eventually give sin when you insist, and you catch the next train.

It's times like these that make you wish she would have talked you out of becoming an astronomer.  Unless you can get the right connections and join a well-funded research group, your only other option to make any money would be teaching at a university, and you've heard how much your current professors grumble about their pay.  You've been very careful--you've lived exclusively on financial aid and scholarships, borrowed classmate's books, skipped meals, and done everything you can to avoid loans.

There's a primal fear instilled in you for monetary debt towards institutions rather than people, because it's the only kind of debt that you aren't able to pay back.  The shadier lenders are even worse, loaning to people that they know won't be able to afford to make the payments.  You heard stories when you were young of gangsters beating people half to death and taking children from poor families when collection day rolled around.  There had been close calls with some shady organizations, but your father had been very careful, making sure you and your mother weren't home when payments were due.

One time, you came back to find the door broken in and the place a mess.  Your father was standing in the kitchen pressing a wet cloth to his face.  Your mother had covered your eyes before you could see clearly, but you know you saw blood.  The memory flashes in your mind whenever your mother is in debt, and you always go to see her just in case.

Her apartment looks poor in comparison to those elsewhere in Shinjuku, and after being in Izaya's, it looks truly pitiful.  You climb the rickety, metal stairs up to the second floor, footsteps slowing when you see her door is open and another woman is standing there talking to her.  When you come closer, you see that the door is not open, but broken, barely hanging on its hinges.

"You need to get a hold of yourself, Hiroko," the woman says, brows furrowed in worry, "You should never have taken a loan from people like that."

"I'm sorry," your mother says quietly, her head bowed as she speaks, "I knew it wasn't a good idea, but I didn't know what else to do.  I'm running out of options."

"Mom," you call, walking faster now, and she flinches when she hears your voice.  The woman in front of her looks at you, eyes softening.  You recognize her now; it's the landlady.  "What happened?"

Your mother looks up finally, eyes pleading, and the landlady simply nods and reluctantly walks away.  "Come inside," she tells you, and you walk past the bent and broken door, trying to jam it back into place to give you some privacy.

A quick glance over your mother reveals no wounds and you automatically relax, though one of the picture frames that was on the wall is shattered on the floor.  "What happened?" you ask quietly as she gestures for you to come sit at the table with her.

"I told you," she murmurs, "I'm in debt."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No, I'm fine."

"My financial aid will come in a few weeks.  Maybe I can--?"

"No," she says firmly, "Don't ever suggest that again.  That money is for you, for going to school.  It's not for me."

"Mom, I don't want you to get hurt," you insist, feeling your eyes burn with tears, "I live all the way over in Osaka now.  What if something happens?  I wouldn't be able to come right away."

"He's giving me one more month."  Her hands are clasped together on the table, shaking.  "I can make it.  I know you're worried, but it'll be okay."

"How much?"

She doesn't answer.

"Mom."

She just shakes her head.

"Please, mom."

"It's not your debt, sweetheart, it's your father's and mine.  Let me take care of it."

If she's not telling you how much it is, then she must be worried she won't be able to pay it.  You're scared for her; this hasn't happened since your father was still alive, and back then, he always protected you both.  But he isn't around anymore. What if next time...?

No.  You won't think about that.

If your mother can't pay it, then you'll have to, even if she doesn't want you to.

You get back on the train, but you don't take it home.  You make a quick stop in Ikebukuro first.  Every part of you is screaming that this is a bad idea, and that you're going to regret this, but you're scared.  You're so scared that you'd rather do this than wait a month and see what happens.  Nobody can protect your mother but you now, and you'll do whatever it takes.

You steady your breathing.  You clench your hands at your sides to stop them from shaking.  You knock, twice.  There's a short pause and then the door opens halfway.

"What a surprise," Izaya says enthusiastically, "I didn't think I'd see you until Saturday.  Did you miss me?"

"I need to talk to you," you say.  His smile widens.

"Well, come in, then."

*

Izaya listens to you explain the situation with an unnerving smile and unblinking stare.  When you finish talking, he leans back on the couch across from you, pressing his hand to his chin as though thinking.

"What is it exactly that you're asking?" he says, and your face burns in embarrassment.  This is the part where you dig yourself into a deeper hole.  

"I want to know how much my mother's debt is."  He can probably guess that you plan on paying it, but you're not going to say that right away.

His eyes widen in interest.  "So you're approaching me with a job," he says, "That's very interesting.  Do you know what I normally charge?"

You look at the floor.

"But you have been incredibly helpful to me," he says thoughtfully, "So how about this?  You keep up with our agreed-upon favor into next week as well.  Say, Monday through Wednesday?"

"Okay."  You're surprised that he didn't ask for more, though you suspect that what you asked of him is really nothing in comparison to what he usually does.

He leaves the couch for his desk on the other side of his room, barely seated when his fingers begin flying across the keys.  "I already know your mother's name and place of residence," he says, and you're not even surprised anymore, "It shouldn't take me long to figure out who she took out a loan from."  For once, you're actually grateful that Izaya is as good as he is at what he does.

He looks just a little different when he works--you probably wouldn't even notice, except that you've learned to look and act just like him.  His smile lessens slightly, though you suspect that it's simply because he's focused and not because he isn't enjoying himself.  Even if it's only to get you further in debt, he seems to take his work very seriously.  You don't realize you're staring until he glances over to look at you and your eyes meet, and you tear your gaze away.

"That reminds me, I was going to ask you something," he says, attention returned to the computer monitor, "I was doing some business the other day when I saw my darling Hitomi, and she didn't seem eager to talk to me at all.  Disappointing, really.  You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

You freeze up completely for a minute.  You'd forgotten all about Hitomi because of this mess with your mother, and certainly hadn't expected Izaya to bring it up now.  You try to play dumb, stammering out a, "Who's that again?" but you know you're too late--Izaya wouldn't ask if he didn't think you knew something.

"An acquaintance," Izaya humors you, "But don't worry about it too much."

You know Izaya well enough by now to know that's a threat.

"Ah, here we go," he says suddenly, and you look up again.  His expression shifts from amusement to surprise, and then he looks over at you very slowly.  "Would you like to see?"

You're not sure you do now, but you already had him go to the trouble of finding the information and agreed to pay him back for it.  It'd be a waste if you never learned what he found.  Reluctantly, you get up from the couch and approach his desk, and Izaya turns the screen towards you.

Four.

Four million.

_Four million yen._

You feel sick.  There's no way your financial aid could even make a dent in that, and you're certain now that your mother won't have enough in a year, much less a month.

Izaya watches your face carefully.  "Don't tell me you intend to pay it," he says, knowing that's exactly what you intend to do.  You're too numb to respond.  Izaya sighs, turning the monitor back to face him.  He hits a few keys and stands from his desk.  "Don't make that face," he says, "It'll be alright.  It's not as if this is your responsibility."

"But," you whimper, "But I...my mom...."

He leans over the desk to cup your face in his hands.  His touch is warm and you startle to attention, meeting his eyes.  "I'd love to help you," he murmurs, smiling lightly, "But four million is quite a bit of money.  That's even more than what your operation cost, you know."

"Please," you choke, grabbing onto Izaya's shirt in desperation, "Please, I...I-I'll go to Ikebukuro every day.  I'll do whatever you tell me.  I'll...."  You sob.  "I'll do anything."

Izaya leans down to press his forehead to yours as your shoulders shake with sobs.  "It pains me to see you like this," he says with fake gentleness, still smiling, "I can't leave you like this in good conscience.  Oh, you drive a hard bargain, my dear, but you win.  I'll help you and your mother."

You thank him breathlessly, your gratitude chanted like a mantra as you cling to Izaya, the monster, your savior, and he chuckles and drifts out of your reach to come around the desk, grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the couch where he pushes you onto one of the cushions.  "In return," he begins, kneeling beside you to wipe a tear from your face, "I have one very big favor to ask of you.  Just one, that's all.  But it's very important."  

You wait, holding your breath.  No matter what, you can't refuse now.  For your mother, you tell yourself.

Izaya smirks.  "It's about Shizu-chan."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Calm before the storm.

You have a hard copy of the picture you took with Shizuo in your room, and most nights, you take it out to look at it for a minute and feel a little reassured.  You're glad he doesn't know, because you think he might find it creepy, but it's all you have, because you're sure as hell not going to Izaya for comfort, and you hate barging into Shinra's home.  Now, though, even Shizuo's small smile doesn't make you feel any better.

"It's about Shizu-chan," Izaya had said the previous night, "He'll be going to work starting from downtown this Sunday.  I need you to follow him without being noticed.  It's very important that he not realize you're there."

You don't know what Izaya wants with Shizuo, but you're not in any position to refuse.  He says he has the money, and as soon as you return with the results, he'll send it to your mother's loaners.  You're still trying to figure out how you're going to explain it to her, but you'll worry about that after it's taken care of.  You still have a couple days before you need to go behind Shizuo's back.  It seems as good a day as any to pay him back for the lunch he bought you that you were supposed to buy for him.

You're going to owe him a whole lot of lunches after this.

You call Shizuo early on Friday morning and tell him that you'd like to treat him to lunch again.  There's a pause as he talks to someone--probably his boss--and then he tells you that's fine, and you agree to meet at a café this time.  You get dressed, catch the train, and three hours later, you're waving down Shizuo.  "Hey," he greets.

"How're you?" you ask, and he shrugs.

"Been better."

You go into the café and find the line, glancing up at the menu and trying to figure out what you can afford.  "What about you?" he asks, and you turn to look at him in confusion.

"Huh?"

"How've you been?" he elaborates, looking up at the menu, too.

You force a smile.  "I'm good."

When you get to the front of the line, you both grab sandwiches and Shizuo gets a couple of bottled drinks.  The cashier gives you the total and in the time it takes you to get out your wallet, Shizuo has already handed his card to her.  "What?  No!" you cry in frustration, "Mr. Heiwajima!"  He shrugs and accepts his card when it's handed back, and you follow him to a table.  "You can't keep doing that," you complain, "I'm never going to be able to pay you back if you keep doing that."

He brushes you off.  "You can get it next time."

You sit across from each other and unwrap your sandwiches, eating in silence for a few minutes.  He seems almost as tense as you today.

"You never asked," he says suddenly, and you look up from your sandwich.  He doesn't look away, so you try to hold his gaze.  "About my strength.  How I could rip up street signs and throw vending machines."

You blink.  "I wondered," you admit, "But I didn't think it was any of my business."  This definitely sounds like an invitation, though, so you quietly ask, "How do you do it?"

"The first time it happened," he says, his gaze distant, "I was just a kid.  My brother ate the last pudding container in the fridge.  Dumb, right?  But you know how kids can be.  I remember being mad; no, more than mad.  Furious, maybe.  Like, hands shaking, seeing red kind of furious.  You know when you get pissed, sometimes you feel like you could just throw something?"  You nod.  "It's like that, but ten times stronger.  It's just me, whatever's pissing me off, and all this anger.  It's hard to come back down."

He seems to remember where he is, and suddenly looks down with a bitter smile.  "I picked up the goddamn fridge," he mutters, "But back then, I couldn't do that stuff without hurting myself.  My body couldn't keep up with my anger.  As I got older, it got stronger, and it could handle my outbursts.  I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing."

"I think it's good," you offer, and he looks up again.  Your breath catches in your throat.  Even through his sunglasses, you can see Shizuo's eyes, confused and cautious, almost scared, like he's afraid you're going to run.  "There are a lot of times when I wished I were stronger so I could have taken care of the people I care about."  You think about your father and your mother, broken doors and bruises and so much debt.  "Even if it's hard to control, I think when it comes down to it, you're really lucky."

Shizuo is still staring at you, his eyes softening, and you're both leaning over the table since you've been talking quietly.  Your faces are really close together, but you've only just now noticed and started to get embarrassed.  You think about pulling back, but before you do, Shizuo cups your chin in one hand and closes the distance between you.

You've never been kissed before.  You hadn't been bullied for your family's financial situation, but nobody had ever gone out with you because of it.  Once, a boy in your middle school had walked you home, but once he saw where you lived, he didn't stick around much longer.  Shizuo's lips are warm and soft against yours, and you don't know what to do so you just kind of sit there until he pulls away and stare up at him.

"Sorry," he says, not looking at you, and you think his face is probably as red as yours.

"No, it's okay," you stammer, "Really, I didn't...I don't mind."

He hesitates, but eventually meets your eyes again, and you smile at each other.  "Maybe later," he begins, "After this is all figured out.  You know.  Maybe then."

"Yes," you say immediately, and you're both so awkward and so vague but you know exactly what the other person is trying to say, and soon you're both laughing.  You wipe at your eyes and giggle, and Shizuo shakes his head, still smiling.

"We're pathetic," he says, and you agree with him.

It might not be the best idea; you feel close to him because he's the one of the only people who knows your entire situation, and he feels close to you because you haven't pushed him away yet.  But, to the best of your knowledge, that's a lot farther than either of you have gotten before with anyone before, so you're going to embrace the opportunity when it comes up.

 _If_ it comes up, you remind yourself before you get too optimistic, because if you didn't owe Izaya Orihara a life debt before, you do now.  That doesn't mean you're going to burn this bridge, though; you're sure you can work something out.

"Are you coming to Ikebukuro this weekend?" he asks, "Not as yourself, but as that asshole?"

"Tomorrow," you answer, feeling bad about lying to him, but it'll be better if he's not looking for you on Sunday.  "You know what to do if you see me."

"Yeah."  He stands from the table and takes both of the plastic wrappings that remain of your meal.  "Does he know I know yet?"

"I'm not sure.  He hasn't said anything, if he does," you say.

Shizuo considers this as he goes to the trash bin to throw away the wrappers, and then follows you out of the café.  "Oh, yeah," he says, "Did you want another picture or something?"

You smile brightly, and your smile turns into a small laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing," you say, and he scowls.

"Look, it's not like I usually do stuff like this.  You just asked for one last time, so I thought...."

"It's fine."  You take out your phone and smile shyly.  "I do want one."

The next photo to add to your collection is one of you and Shizuo, who is smiling slightly less awkwardly than last time, in downtown Ikebukuro, and you know you'll be printing it later.

"Um, excuse me?" someone asks from very close behind you, and you almost jump out of your skin.  You turn to find Hitomi looking at you in shock.  "Oh!  Oh.  I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"That's okay," you tell her, but she doesn't leave.  She stares at you, hard, for another minute, and you start to sweat, wondering if she's seen through you, too.  Shizuo is looking between the two of you in confusion.

"Do you...?"  She swallows.  "Do you know him, too?"

Your eyes soften.  "Yes."

She looks like she's about to say something else, but another girl approaches and calls her name, dragging her away by the arm.  "Hitomi, come on, we haven't seen you in ages," she says, "Don't just run off like that."

"Sorry," Hitomi says, but she smiles a little bit, and her eyes are brighter.  You know this other girl must be her friend, and you smile a little, too.  If her friends have any sense, it's no wonder she hasn't been talking to Izaya as much after getting back in touch with them.  You wonder what she wanted to tell you, though, when she thought you were him.

"What was that about?" Shizuo asks.

"It's kind of a long story."

He shrugs.  "I'm going back to work.  I'll see you some other time."

"Okay."

He smiles at you--it's small, almost shy, but genuine and warm--and walks off in another direction.  Your heart is still beating quickly when you get back to the train station, and you can't stop smiling.  You're still feeling a little guilty about what you're going to do Sunday, but you're not too worried.  You're certain that there's nothing Izaya could do to Shizuo that would really hurt him.  All you have to do is follow him unnoticed for a while.  You've never tried tailing him before, but you think it'd be difficult to lose him in a crowd with his blond hair.

You do this, and your mother's debt is gone.  Then you just continue your effortless favors to Izaya whenever he needs you to, and life goes on as normal.

The truth, of course, is much more complicated than that, but you'll figure that out on Sunday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the "feels" tag has just been kind of hanging out up there being lazy, but it's going to become much more apparent next week.


	9. Chapter 9

Saturday isn't particularly eventful.

Shizuo only chases you a few blocks before he lets you get away and you amble around Ikebukuro for the rest of the afternoon trying to quell your anxiety.  When you get back to Izaya’s to change into your own clothes, he doesn't show up moments after.  The break in routine is so unexpected that you actually linger an extra minute in his living room to see if he’ll show up, but he never does.  This is the first time you've been left alone in his apartment before, and you’re so nervous that you sit motionless on the couch, afraid that as soon as you touch something he’ll burst in and.…

Do what?  You’re not sure.  You don’t really want to find out.  You wait another minute, anxiously checking your phone for the time much more frequently than you need to before you get yourself to move.  You’re not sure how to lock the door, but it probably doesn't matter, so you just shut it behind you and head home.

Sleep comes surprisingly easily, and you feel rested in the morning.  Once again, you arrive at Izaya’s to find the door unlocked and the informant nowhere in sight, but there is a handwritten note waiting for you on the coffee table.  His clothes are neatly folded in a pile beneath them, and you pick up the note and take it with you to his bathroom while you change.

Item one: Find Shizu-chan.

You strip down, pushing your clothes into the corner with your foot and stare at yourself in the mirror.  You’ve had to trim your hair once since this started to keep it in the same style.  Once, your resemblance to Izaya had been convenient and made you happy, but now it’s just creepy and makes you feel sick to your stomach.  You reach for the pants.

Item two: Follow Shizu-chan.

Izaya has almost an identical build to you, as well, and you’re very close in height.  You wonder if he’s had a situation like this in mind for a while and was glad to happen across a lookalike.  You've already established that he didn't save you out of charity, but maybe the other reason was because he really does need someone to impersonate him.  Nobody but his broken fan club and Shizuo have approached you so far, though, so if he has more enemies, they haven’t made themselves known yet.  You pull his shirt on over your head.

Item three: Remain undetected by Shizu-chan.

Comparatively speaking, Izaya made a big deal out of today, which is cause for concern.  He was incredibly vague on what you’re actually going to do aside from follow Shizuo around, so you can only guess that he intends for you to be waiting for something.  You don’t know what.  He probably expects you to know it when you see it.  You pull your arms through the sleeves of his jacket and stare at your reflection.  There’s Izaya in the mirror, smirking at you.  But if you look close enough, you think you’re lacking the cold calculation that Izaya has in his eyes.  Maybe that’s what gave you away before.

Item four: Return.

That’s all, just four simple instructions meant to span the rest of the day.  You put the note back on the table on your way out.  The train ride is the same as always; people avoid you, even avoid looking at you, and you inwardly sigh and wait to arrive downtown. 

Sunday afternoons aren't any quieter than the rest of the week in the entertainment district, and the streets are crowded, so you start searching immediately.  You’re not worried about spotting him; Shizuo is tall with bleached hair.  What you’re worried about is him seeing you first, since you’re supposedly not in Ikebukuro today, which means he’ll definitely think you’re Izaya at first glance and not bother to check.  Not only would that be a terrible way to start the day, but it would make following him difficult even if you do get away, since he’d probably be on edge for the rest of the afternoon. 

You see a shock of blond hair up ahead and idle behind a group of chatting high school students outside of the nearest store.  You can cross your first objective off; there’s Shizuo, walking beside a man in a dark suit with dreadlocks.  You haven’t tried to follow someone without them knowing since you were a kid, playing games in the park, but you have to try, so you wait a minute longer until they’re out of earshot but not out of sight before you begin tailing them.

The streets are congested enough that even the people who usually flee from you don’t pay you much attention, giving you plenty of cover as you stay about ten steps back.  They’re walking at a good pace, not in a hurry but not ambling either, so you figure they must have a destination in mind.  The slow but steady stroll takes you from downtown to the slums just out of town, beneath balconies of crowded apartments that remind you too much of your mother’s. 

They’re making a beeline for one particular apartment up ahead.  You notice halfway down the street once you’re a few steps closer than you probably should be that the streets are almost empty here.  If he decides to turn around, there’s no one between you, so you turn into the next alley between two buildings and peer around the edge.  The man with Shizuo leads, walking up the steps outside to the second floor and knocking on one of the doors.  There’s no answer.  You wait. 

You can’t see very well from where you are, but you think the door moves just a bit, and you hear muffled voices.  The exchange becomes louder and more aggressive, and you can only guess that the person inside the apartment is becoming agitated, because Shizuo’s companion still looks relatively calm as he moves to the side a bit. 

You recognize Shizuo’s body language immediately as the moment before he snaps, his hands clenched into fists for a moment before he whips his cigarette out of his mouth and stomps on it.  The metal platform they’re standing on creaks.  The next thing you know, the door to the apartment is ripped off of its hinges, and the man beside Shizuo just shakes his head.

There’s shouting.  The person inside the apartment panics and you think you see money trade hands, but it’s too late; Shizuo is enraged, and throws the door inward.  You hear glass shatter, and the man next to Shizuo says something quietly before coming down the stairs and motioning for Shizuo to follow.  With a sudden flash of déjà vu, the pieces finally all fit together.

Shizuo is a debt collector.  He and his partner intimidate and threaten people who can’t meet the payment date.  That’s why he didn't want to tell you what he did for a living; he knew what your family’s financial situation was.  The smashed door instantly reminds you of your mother’s apartment and the damage you saw there, and the thought of Shizuo being there, of threatening her, of _hurting_ her, makes you hyperventilate. 

Your head is spinning and you’re torn between feeling angry and crushed, between wanting to burn his pictures and cry over the ashes, and you just feel dizzy and sick, and something inside that has been slowly unraveling since the beginning of your ordeal finally snaps and makes you do something really, really stupid.

“Shizu-chan!” you call, stepping out of the alley and narrowing your eyes at him.  The other man tenses and takes a step back, apparently familiar with Izaya, and Shizuo is still coming down from his fury just moments ago, so he hesitates, staring at you in disbelief.  The hatred is there; he thinks you’re Izaya.  You smile wider.  “It’s not nice to pick on defenseless humans, Shizu-chan.  You’re a monster compared to them.”

You are given a three second head start when he pulls a leaking air conditioning unit off of the nearest shop’s wall and don’t waste it, halfway down the street by the time he’s thrown it at you.  Normally you would just leave it there, just focus on getting away and trying not to engage him further, but you’re laughing now, momentarily oblivious to just how dangerous the situation is and thinking of nothing but how it was people like Shizuo who hurt your family, how it was people like Shizuo who beat your father who only wanted to feed you, _how it was Shizuo who paid your mother a visit only days ago and forced you to go to Izaya for help._

“You’re heartless, Shizu-chan!” you yell over your shoulder, “You’re a heartless monster!”  You’re laughing and crying at the same time.  “ _You’re a monster_!”

And then it happens; something actually hits you.  You’re back downtown, weaving through a parting crowd when something hits you square in the middle of your back and you hit the ground face-first.  You’re not thinking about anything but how bad it hurts, how it feels like your back’s on fire, until Shizuo’s shoes come into view and you stare up at him with a shaky, tear-covered smile, still laughing, still sobbing, and choke, “Monster.”

Shizuo’s arm is frozen, reaching for you, when he looks at your eyes and he realizes right away who you are, and a thousand emotions flicker through his eyes, the most pronounced among them fear and hurt.  As if he’s the one who has anything to be afraid of. 

“But,” he stammers, “I thought…you….”

His hand retreats, and then slowly reaches forward without killing intent, and you scream and push yourself away from him, slowly staggering to your feet.  “Stay away from me,” you whisper, backing away a step at a time.  Shizuo tries to follow and you scream, “Stay away!” and you run, more fearful than you've ever been of him in your life.

*

You don’t want to go to Izaya’s, and you don’t want to go home, so you go to Shinra’s.  His smile falls immediately just from the look on your face, dried trails of tears still on your cheeks and your eyes red and puffy.  He audibly gasps when you come inside and walk by him, and he quickly ushers you to the couch and has you take off the jacket and, reluctantly, the shirt.

It was a flower pot rather than a major appliance, which is probably why you’re not dead.  There are shards still stuck in the fabric of the jacket and a big, angry bruise covered in scratches on your back.  You don’t say a word or even protest in embarrassment when he gently unclasps your bra to wipe down your back with a washcloth, but you do hiss when he presses his fingers to the large area of darkening skin. 

After assessing the damage, he says you’ll be fine, but that your back will definitely be sore for a while.  “I just can’t believe he actually hit you,” he goes on, letting you hook your bra back in place and put the shirt on as he picks clay slivers out of the back of Izaya’s jacket.  “Did he forget it was you?  I know he gets really, uncontrollably mad, but I really thought he wouldn't….”  He keeps talking, but you aren't listening.  Your back still stings, but you feel numb otherwise.  Growing up, you learned early on how to handle disappointment, but this is much more than you're used to. 

Your anchor is gone.  Shizuo is the kind of person you despise the most, and he knew it.  You’re not sure you can bring yourself to pay him back for the lunches he’s bought you.  All you have left now is Izaya, who agreed to take care of everything.  It’s terrible, really; the least trustworthy person in all of this, the man who put you in this situation in the first place, turned out to be the only one you could really count on.  Where does that leave you now? 

You already know the answer.  It should scare you, but it doesn't.  You’re tired.  All you want is to feel safe, to have some stability, to know that something will be the same tomorrow.  You thank Shinra and tell him you have to go.

*

Izaya is waiting for you when you come back, lounging on his couch and checking his phone.  “There you are,” he says as though he’s been waiting a while and gets to his feet.  You slowly let the door shut behind you and approach the couch.  “How did it go?”

You don’t say anything.  Izaya is about to until you come close enough to wrap your arms around him and bury your face in his chest.  He stands still for a minute and listens to your sniffles become sobs and then, slowly, he wraps his arms around you. 

“There, there,” he coos softly, and his touch is light and reassuring, exactly what you need right now, “It’ll be alright.  Did Shizu-chan hurt you?”  You nod.  “Don’t worry,” he says, “We’ll figure out some other way for you to pay me back.  You never have to see him again.”  You shouldn't believe him, you shouldn't let him be so close, you shouldn't rely on him, but you can’t help it. 

Izaya is your anchor now, exactly the way he planned it. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to give a big thank you to all of my readers over here! This is probably the most "active" fanfiction I have as far as comments, and it's a lot of fun to write. You guys are awesome :)

Shizuo calls at least ten times that night before he stops abruptly.  You think he probably threw his phone against a wall and destroyed it.  All of the calls go to your voice mail anyway; you keep pressing the red button on your phone, ignoring all of them while you lie on Izaya's couch.  He'd told you he'd rather you stay there for the night because he was "worried," a lie that you didn't really believe but convinced yourself of at least on the surface.

The pieces are all right in front of you; you see yourself in all of those broken girls, and those girls in you.  You see what Izaya is doing, what he's already done, but you feel like you're all alone out at sea with your anchor severed.  He's offering you a new one, and with how lost you feel, you don't think you can turn him down.  

It's been a few hours since you got back from Ikebukuro.  Izaya has been patient, giving you space for a while and letting you cry, returning only when you're calm again to negotiate new terms for the debt you owe him, which are even more vague than the directions you received before impersonating him.  It ultimately boils down to doing whatever he asks, and even though he claims he is fair and kind-hearted, and even though you know he's lying to your face now, you still agree.

You head straight to the train station and don't get home until almost noon, so you decide to skip the rest of your classes.  You don't go to your bedroom for a while, not wanting to look at the pictures and still not sure what to do with them, and text a classmate for the notes from today, but your attempts to study are thwarted by Izaya as they usually are.

You were right--Izaya was a high mass star, a blue giant that reached its end, and the core left behind by his supernova exceeded the Chandrasekhar limit.  That means he's a black hole now, an object from which not even light can escape, so surely you have no chance.  

Your phone vibrates on the table beside your textbook and you jump, reaching out to check the screen.  It's a text message this time, also from Shizuo.  You don't want to read it, but you can't tear your eyes away from the short, simple message.

_Please call me._

You don't think you can.  It's not even about whether you want to or not, but you don't think you can even bring yourself to dial his number and listen to the ringing, waiting a couple agonizing moments for him to answer.  What would he say?  What would  _you_ say?  Shizuo never lied to you, but he never told you the truth, either.  In the end, which is worse?  You don't know.  You don't want to think about it anymore.

*

Days pass, and then weeks.  You let your hair grow out.  You think Shizuo would have liked it.  You tell yourself not to think that anymore.

Izaya sends you the occasional message to make sure you're still alive, and therefore still of use.  Shizuo never gives up, and you want to be happy about that, but you're not.  He sends messages every day, always short, always asking nothing more than for you to give him a call, and the temptation grows.  You find yourself holding your phone, your finger hovering over the "call" button with Shizuo's number above it, but you always change your mind, always put it down and do something else.

When you tried to find the pictures, you couldn't, and you're certain you didn't misplace them because they were taped onto the inside cover of a notebook, which also seems to have disappeared.  Maybe it's for the best, you think.  But you can't convince yourself that it's really better this way.  Somewhere, in some deep part of yourself that Izaya has yet to sink his claws into, you want to see Shizuo again.  You want to have lunch together again, want to try to pay for it only for him to shoot you down and say, "next time," and only now do you realize that he was trying to make sure he would see you again.

On Thursday, he sends you something different.

 _I'm going to be at Russia Sushi around 6 this Saturday,_ it says.

That's all.  Not a threat, not a request, but an invitation that you're free to accept or decline.  It keeps you up all night.  He's going to be in Ikebukuro.  You could see him again.  You could talk to him.  You want to, but you think of doors hanging off their hinges and shattered windows, broken tables and your father's blood and bruises, and then you don't want to anymore.

You dream about it; about him standing alone in front of the restaurant, checking his watch, staying a few minutes longer, then ten minutes, and then an hour, before he finally, slowly, begins to walk away.

*

The following week, you've just gotten out of your last lecture and are on your way home when your phone buzzes in your pocket and your mother's number appears on the screen.  But before you can answer, the call suddenly stops like she changed her mind.  As you wait for the crosswalk light to change, you debate calling her back.  She has your schedule memorized and never calls during class unless it's an emergency, but you don't live far from campus, so you decide to wait until you get home.  

You're so preoccupied with your thoughts as you climb the apartment stairs that you don't notice that there's someone waiting for you in front of your door until you're on the second floor.  You're just getting your keys out of your bag when you look up and freeze, just two doors between you and them.  It's not just one person, but two--Shizuo and his coworker.  You don't move; you don't even breathe.  They stare at you and you stare at them, and nobody says a word for a minute, fearful of disturbing the silence.

The man with Shizuo runs out of patience first, sighing deeply before stepping back from the door.  "You don't have to let us in," he says, "But you should at least hear him out."

You still don't move for a minute, eyes darting between him and Shizuo, who isn't looking at you.  You're trying to figure out why he brought his coworker with him.  The obvious answer would be that his work performance has been affected, but you wonder if the fear you saw in Shizuo's eyes before wasn't just your imagination.  Maybe he's feeling so nervous and insecure that he actually brought someone with him.  You can't wrap your head around him being afraid of you for any reason.  What's there to be afraid of?

Finally, you nod, and take a few careful steps forward until you reach your door, unlocking it and hurrying inside to put it between you.  Neither of them move, and you find yourself staring at them through the small space in the door you've allowed the door to stay open.  You almost feel ridiculous.  "I guess," you say, and swallow the lump of anxiety in your throat, "You can come in."  You step back from the door but leave it unlocked and hurry into the living room where you sit on the far side of your small table.  You see Shizuo looking at you only briefly as he comes in, and then he looks away again.  You can't quite see his eyes through his dark glasses, but his posture tells you that he's crushed.

You realize immediately that it's because he can tell you're afraid of him.

Neither of them sit down, but rather stand near the table.  Shizuo's coworker's eyes shift constantly from you to Shizuo to the front door.  You can tell he doesn't want to be here, though he does introduce himself.  "Tanaka, Tom," he says, but doesn't bother extending a hand, "I work with Shizuo."

"I know that," you say, "How do you know where I live?"

"We asked your mother."

Your blood runs cold.

"We just asked," Tom stresses, "She didn't even let us in.  Told her Shizuo wanted to make amends with her daughter.  She practically spat in our faces."  Shizuo looks at the ground.  "So we told her the truth; he doesn't just want to apologize.  He's got a thing for you, and he's got it bad enough that it's interfering with work."

You look at Shizuo, but he still doesn't look up at you.  He's ashamed.

"And Shizuo was looking just about as pathetic as he does now," Tom went on, "So she gave us your address.  She told us not to bother, though, because he was just scum, no better than a criminal, and her daughter would never love him."

You don't know what to say.  You can imagine your mother saying those kinds of things.  You remember the hatred in her eyes when she wrapped your father's arm in bandages as she stared into space, planning a revenge that she could never have.  You can see her in your mind's eye talking to Shizuo, looking up at him with calm rage, finally able to deny a debt collector what they want.  You want to be happy for her, and for you, for this triumph, but instead, you only feel a pain in your heart, and your eyes mist over.

You look at Shizuo again and he's practically trembling, a fearful child in the body of a man trying to control his tears, and you don't know what you were afraid of.  Shizuo is nothing but honesty, pure, childish honesty.  He didn't know how to tell you the truth, so he never said a word.  Maybe he was wrong for doing that, but you know you were wrong for calling him a monster.  There is no monster here but the unfortunate circumstances you've both ended up in.  The men who hurt your father were debt collectors, but they were not the people standing in your kitchen now.  All you could see when you went to visit your mother was their frightening shadow, and you didn't notice that she was unharmed, or that they had given her more time, something the ones from your childhood never did.

You can't hate Shizuo.  You never could, and you don't now.

Suddenly, you're on your feet, and you'r embracing Shizuo, who flinches in your grasp at first.  "I'm sorry," you sob, "I'm so, so sorry.  You're not a monster, not at all."

Shizuo doesn't say anything as you cry into his chest, but very slowly, he brings his arms around you and the safety you feel is not the false shelter that Izaya's debt provides, but real warmth.

You don't notice Tom leave, but the next time you glance in his direction, he's not there anymore.  Shizuo finally speaks and tells you that the two of you need to talk, and you're more than ready to listen to every word he has to say.


	11. Chapter 11

“I’m a debt collector.”

You don’t make a snarky comment about how you hadn’t been sure and appreciate Shizuo telling you, because he wants to tell you everything, things you know and things you don’t, and you are going to listen to it all until he has nothing more to say.

“I’ve tried other jobs,” he says, now seated at the table across from you, “But it’s hard for me to hold onto them for long.  Something goes wrong, someone gets hurt, and then I’m unemployed again.  I tried a lot of things.”  He gestures down to himself and the bartender’s uniform he wears.  “My brother gave me this uniform, and another chance, and it went really well for a while.  If someone pissed me off, I’d step out for a minute, get myself together, and then come back in and it’d all be fine.”

He pauses here, so you encourage him, “What happened?”

“Izaya,” he seethes, “Got me fired.”

You think there’s more to this story, but what you know so far is putting everything into perspective.  Shizuo doesn’t look willing to continue, trying to stay calm so he won’t frighten you again.

“When you told me about yourself a while back,” he continues after a minute, “and you told me about the time your mother cried when someone gave her a winter coat for you, it really stuck with me.  I wondered what it must have been like, growing up like that.  Then, that same week, Tom says he has a collection to make in Shinjuku.”  He pauses and looks at you nervously.  You nod.  “It was surreal.  There was a picture on her wall of her with a man and a little girl in a coat, and I just knew when I saw it that I was looking at you.  And then I knew who she was.”

“Tom gave her another month,” you say quietly, “That was…nice of him.”

“I can’t remember the last time he did something like that,” Shizuo says, “I guess he could see it on my face.  I’d mentioned you before.”

You think about the things your mother said to Shizuo and cringe.  “She didn’t mean what she said.”

“She did.”  Shizuo shakes his head.  “But it’s fine.  I know she’s right.  Even before I met her, that day you took me out to lunch….”

You remember the kiss.  Your face flushes.

“I thought, ‘I’m never going to get another chance,’” he admits, “I wasn’t sure then, but now I know.”

“That’s not true,” you insist, and then your face heats up even more.  You look at the table.  “It’s not,” you say again softly, “There'll be other chances.”

Shizuo is silent.  He reaches across the table to where your hands are clasped together and pulls them apart, taking one into his own and holding on with a gentle but firm grip.  “I can accept if you hate me,” he says, “When I realized that it was you and not Izaya, I didn’t know what to do, what to say to you.  But when you looked back at me, and you were so afraid…I just shut down.  I couldn’t take that.”  He rubs his thumb over the tops of your hands soothingly.  “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“I’m not,” you say, “I was then, but I’ve been thinking about it.  I know I’m not now.”

 “You swear?” Shizuo asks, and you almost smile at how childish he sounds.  You missed him.

“I swear.”

He moves forward, and suddenly your lips are pressed together.  Shizuo’s mouth is moving quickly against yours, almost desperately, begging you to answer, and slowly, you reciprocate, closing your eyes.  Shizuo’s hands cup your face as he licks at your lips, asking for permission, timid despite being so passionate, and your head is spinning when you let him in.  He tastes like cigarettes, but you don’t really mind so much.  He’s just starting to trail his hands down from your face to your neck and your collarbones and your chest and you’re wishing there wasn’t a table between you when there’s a knock on the door. 

“I don’t hear any talking,” Tom’s voice comes from the other side, and you both jolt and separate, “So you’re either giving each other the silent treatment, or you’ve made up.  And I really hate to do this, Shizuo, but we’ve still got work to do.”

Shizuo looks about as disappointed as you feel, but he reluctantly stands from the table and you follow him to the door.  “If you want me to quit,” he starts to say uneasily, but you cut him off.

“I’m not going to ask you to do that,” you say, and he looks relieved.  You know he’s not like other debt collectors, and you know he’s short on options.  Now that you’ve dug your mother out of the hole, as long as she can keep herself afloat, maybe you won’t have to worry about him visiting her again, either. 

“I’ll call you later,” he promises when he’s at the door and you smile and tell him you’ll be waiting.  He leaves with Tom, and you stand in the doorway and watch them disappear into small pinpoints in the distance, wondering how you’re going to proceed.

You really like Shizuo.  You really, really do.  And that’s a problem for a couple of reasons, the biggest of which isn’t even the fact that your mother will never, ever approve.  You think Izaya must know, because the last favor he asked of you was obviously meant to tear you two apart, and it almost worked.  If he realizes that he failed, what will he do?  You were sure he couldn’t do anything to Shizuo, and you think you’re right, because you were the one he went after instead.  But now you know Shizuo well enough that you don’t think there are any other secrets that will sneak up on you, which makes anticipating his next move a little more difficult. 

You remember Hitomi and think that there must still be a way for you.  It hasn’t been that long; you’re already feeling better despite everything that’s happened.  Izaya hasn’t broken you yet.

You have to assume that if he finds out, he’s going to do everything he can to do exactly that.

*

It can’t possibly be a coincidence that Izaya calls you that weekend asking for you to come over so he can talk to you about another favor.  You do as he asks without argument or even hesitation, and on your way there, you plan out the proper responses to anything he might say.  You have to maintain the illusion that you’re just as despondent as you were the day you found out that Shizuo was a debt collector so he’ll leave you alone, though you’re not sure how long you can do that.  Izaya has proven his skill at reading people before; you didn’t even realize that he knew about your crush on Shizuo until just recently.

A three-hour train ride later, you still don’t feel like you’re ready, so you think about the other girls Izaya has broken, the way they looked at you when you wore his clothes and the way they talked about him, and you try to put your impersonation skills to good use once again.

“Welcome back,” Izaya says with a wide smile as he lets you in, “Have a seat.  How have you been?”

You make your way to the couch and try to think of a good answer.  “Good,” you say after a long pause, and try to look miserable, keeping your gaze on the table.  “I’ve been good.”

It must be convincing, because Izaya’s smile widens as he seats himself close by.  “I’m glad to hear it.  I was worried about you, you know, ever since Shizu-chan hurt you, you haven’t been quite the same.”

You keep your eyes down.

“But, anyway,” Izaya continues with a passive wave, as if dismissing the subject, “Your mother’s debt is officially gone, but _your_ debt has only deepened.  Luckily, I’ve thought of the perfect way for you to start paying me back.”  Your unease is genuine, and he grins.  “I think I mentioned to you a while back that Hitomi has been avoiding me.  I’d like you to have a talk with her and see if you can convince her to stop doing that.  Do you think you could do that?”

“Of course,” you say, “But what if she still…?”

“I have faith that you’ll be able to win her over,” he says with a laugh, eyes shining dangerously, and you read the threat hidden there.  _If you fail, there will be consequences._   “Unless, of course, you really don’t think you can do it?”

“No,” you say quickly, “I can do it.  I will.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”  Izaya takes out his phone and texts something to you, and you find an address in the message.  “Pay her a visit tomorrow afternoon.”  You nod numbly and stand from the couch, and Izaya follows you.  “I’m sure you know all about how debt collectors work by now,” he says with a smirk, “When you owe money, they come looking, though some are generous enough to negotiate.  Of course, if you repeatedly take their generosity for granted, they’ll collect what you owe in other ways.”  He’s standing very close now.  You try to take a self-conscious step away only to find the backs of your knees already pressed to the couch.  Izaya leans in, lowering his voice, and you fight the urge to shiver.  “I would rather not do such a thing to you,” he whispers, and despite his tone, he’s smiling brightly, “So do your best tomorrow.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm leaving for vacation in a few days and will be gone for a bit, so there probably won't be an update next week. Sorry about that!

Izaya gives you a full arsenal should you need it in the form of a quick run-down of all of Hitomi’s deepest, darkest secrets.  You really, _really_ don’t want to use them, and you hope it won’t even come down to that.  Fearing his earlier threat simply wasn’t explicit enough, Izaya made sure to give you a clear ultimatum, and the words lingered in your head after you left, into your dreams that night, and carried over into the following morning.

“Just so we’re clear,” he says, smiling throughout, “You can’t afford to screw this up, literally or figuratively.  If I don’t see results, then I’ll make sure your mother goes right back into debt.  Except next time, it’ll be twice as much, loaned through the yakuza, and I doubt I’ll be feeling generous enough to help you.”

You don’t ask him how he’ll manage that, because you know he can, and definitely will.  Now, as you sit on the train headed for Hitomi’s house, you try to focus on making a plan.  There might still be a way out of this.  Maybe you could convince Hitomi to just pretend to go back to Izaya?  You can say from experience that even pretending is unpleasant, but maybe if you explain the entire situation, she’ll listen. 

You get a text from Shizuo when you’re in town that asks what you’re up to, and you try to be as vague as possible, promising you’ll tell him later.  You’ve been trying to be careful about meeting with him in public, since Izaya seems to have eyes all over the city, but you’re determined to sneak in a visit or two a week, because you want to and you feel like you deserve it. 

Hitomi lives in Shinjuku though nowhere near your mother.  When you find her apartment, you knock on the door, only to freeze when it opens to reveal who you can only assume to be her mother.  “Yes?” she says expectantly, and you can’t believe you were so preoccupied about what to say to Hitomi that you forgot to come up with a cover story to come inside. 

“Well…” you start, not sure if you still look young enough to pass for a high school senior, “I’m….”

Thankfully, Hitomi appears in the hallway behind her mother and recognizes you.  “Oh, she’s in my class,” she tells her mother, which is apparently good enough for the woman, because she lets you inside.  Hitomi leads you straight to her bedroom and you wonder if she’s been expecting a visit like this.

“I’ve been hoping to run into you again,” she says.  Her room is cluttered with magazines and clothes and plush dolls, but she clears a path from the door to her bed, where she sits on one end and gestures for you to sit beside her.  “Since we both know, you know, him.  Have you been okay?”

You change the subject, though not gracefully.  “I was actually sent here by him,” you admit, and she visibly stiffens up. 

“Oh,” she murmurs.  You hope you haven’t lost her trust already.  “Why?”

“He says you’re avoiding him.”  She frowns at that.  “And he doesn’t want you to do that.”

“Are you…”  Hitomi considers her words carefully.  “Are you happy being like this, or are you trying to get away from him?”

You look her in the eye.  “Do I like happy?” you ask, not intending to put an edge behind the words, but it slips out.  Your mother’s safety is hinging on your success, so you’re a little anxious, to say the least.  “Sorry.  I really would like to get away.”

Hitomi’s eyes brighten.  “Don’t worry,” she tells you, “My friends helped me come a long way.  We’ve been looking for other people like us so we can help them, and I bet we can help you, too.”

You doubt that.  “Please listen to me,” you say, “You have to stop avoiding him.  You don’t have to be his best friend or anything, but just pretend that you’re running back to him.  You probably don’t even have to do it for that long.  I wouldn’t be so pushy about this, but he’s holding a lot over my head right now.”

“It’s okay,” Hitomi says, “I had to realize it, too, but whatever it is, it’s not worth staying with him.”

Clearly, Izaya has handled you differently than he has his younger followers.  You suppose some of the same things might not work on someone older.  “You don’t understand what situation I’m in.”

“I do,” she insists, “I was there, too.  I remember what it was like.  I’m sorry, but I’m not going back to him.”

You’re starting to sweat, and your frustration only builds at how nonchalant and confident Hitomi is acting.  You can’t really blame her; she’s doing what you’d like to do, and acting the way you would act if you were in her shoes.  Being free of the informant’s grasp after such a long time would be a relief.  But you’re not there yet; you’re in pretty deep, and you're going to get Hitomi to keep you from sinking deeper, even if she doesn’t want to.

“It’s my mother,” you tell her, voice cracking.  You’ve thought about it a lot, but the situation becomes even more real when you say it aloud.  Hitomi looks surprised and a little ashamed.  “My mother was in debt, so I asked him to help me.  That’s part of how I got into this mess in the first place.  And he’s going to put her back in debt, and send horrible people after her, if you don’t help me.”

“I can’t go back,” Hitomi says weakly, “I’ve only been doing well because I haven’t talked to him or seen him.  He can’t do anything to me like this.”

“Hitomi, please,” you beg, but she’s standing from the bed, putting distance between you. 

She’s safe.  She’s made the jump safely, and she has no intention of ever looking back.  Your heart is beating fast in your chest and your head spins as you remember Izaya’s threat and think about debt, collection, failures to make payments and the consequences.  You fight back tears when you look at Hitomi, but she’s not going to do what you ask.  Not willingly.

Not without a push.

“I know about Kenji,” you say, fighting to keep your voice even.  Hitomi pales.  “I know about how you went out with him behind Yuuta’s back.  I know your relationship wasn’t going the way you wanted, but you should’ve broken it off before you did that.  He still doesn’t know.”  She stands her ground.  You have to keep going.  “I know about how you snuck out every night for a week a year ago, because you wanted to be good friends with an upperclassman, but she was just using you.  She would make you talk to older guys and get them to pay for your dinner, but sometimes they’d want more.  You’re parents haven’t found out yet, but if they did….”

“Stop,” she tells you, her hands shaking at her sides.

You can almost feel Izaya looming over you, a teasing smirk on his face as he dares you to walk out without guaranteeing Hitomi’s return.  “You started stealing your mother’s makeup,” you say, “And you wore short skirts.  And you talked in a higher pitch than normal just to show off how young you were, because that was the only way to get their attention.  And one time, someone just gave you money, and you were halfway to subsidized dating—!”

“I’ll go!” Hitomi sobs, “I’ll go, I’ll go back!  I’ll go back, I promise.  Please…please don’t….”

You run.  You run out of her room and down the hall and out the door, and you don’t care that your legs are aching and you’re out of breath.  You run until you don’t think you can run anymore, and then you find an alley wall to lean against and let your tears out. 

You can’t believe what you’ve just done.  Hitomi might have finally gotten away from Izaya, and you’ve just dragged her right back to him.  You knew that going in there.  You should’ve tried another approach, should’ve stayed calm, should’ve listened to what she had to say, but you couldn’t, because all you could think of was your mother and the debt and how it was you or Hitomi.

You remember when you first met her and how you were so eager to help her, how you’d thought that there was no way you could put yourself ahead of her.  You tell yourself that it’s because of your mother, because it’s not just about you anymore, but you’re still disgusted with yourself, wondering what happened, what Izaya is doing to you.

You thought doing what he wanted would help you and get you further away, but you’re only sinking faster.

You’re sliding down the wall to sit on the ground sobbing when your phone goes off again, and you remember that you’re not in this alone.  The message is from Shizuo again, asking if you’ve got time to talk yet, and you tell him that you absolutely do.  You arrange to meet at the west entrance of a park in Shinjuku, since you’re already there, and you start making your way over as soon as you send the message, eager to see him again.

*

You find a bench to sit on facing the lake and watch a gaggle of baby geese following their mother into the water.  You explain what’s happened to Shizuo, and he doesn’t say a word as you speak or even nod, eyes fixed on you the entire time.  When you finally finish, he looks like he’s at a loss for words, torn between wanting to throw something and comfort you, but he eventually settles on pulling you closer and draping an arm over your shoulder.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” he says, “Izaya set you up knowing it would happen.  He calls me a monster, but I’m not sure that a person does the kind of shit he does.” 

“I still can’t believe I did that, though,” you murmur, “She was so upset.  She wasn’t even angry at me, she was just miserable.” 

Shizuo uneasily shifts, seemingly unsure of what else to say to comfort you, so you sit in silence for some time before he says, “Maybe it’s selfish, but I’m glad you did it.”  You look up at him questioningly.  “I know I’m not in your situation, but it’s hard on me, too, you know?  There’s something wrong, someone who’s hurting you, and I can’t do anything.”  His other hand clenches into a fist, but the one on your shoulder only tenses a bit.  “I mean, I give that asshole hell whenever I see him, but it never really does any good.  At the end of the day, he’s still going to make somebody miserable, probably you.  And that’s…I can’t even describe what that’s like.  It’s the worst feeling in the world.”

You almost cry again, overwhelmed at how much Shizuo really cares, and wipe at your eyes.

“Ah, shit,” he mutters when he sees you do it, “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.”

“No, it’s not that,” you say, and laugh a little, “I just really needed to talk to you.  I feel better already.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

So you stay a while longer, long after your tears have dried up and you’re smiling again, and you only move when Shizuo checks his phone for the time and pulls away from you.  “Sorry,” he says, “I’ve gotta get back to work,” and you nod in understanding, following him to where you met at the west entrance.

“Thank you,” you tell him, and Shizuo leans down and leaves a quick kiss on your forehead before he leaves.  You can feel yourself blushing all the way to the train station, and actually have to take a minute in the bathroom to get yourself to stop smiling before you go back to Izaya’s.

*

“I did it,” you tell Izaya, as he comes to sit across from you on the couch. 

“I knew you could do it,” he says.  He’s not smirking.  He’s barely even smiling.

Something is very wrong.

“Make no mistake, I’m grateful that you did that for me,” he continues, trailing off as he sets something on the table and pushes it towards you.  “But,” he says, looking you in the eye—brace for impact—“I’m afraid I’m not quite satisfied yet.”

You look down to find a notebook.  A familiar notebook, actually, one you’re sure you’ve seen before.  You see the creases in the cover and realize that it’s yours, a particular one that went missing a while ago, and your heart stops.  Why does he have this?

“Go on,” he urges, “It’s yours, after all.”

“When did you take it?” you ask weakly.

“A while ago.  I have to routinely inspect my coworker’s homes, you know, make sure they’re not hiding anything important.”  He smirks, and it has no humor or amusement in it, only cruelty.  You don’t correct him that you’re not his coworker.  “And despite what you might think, this is _very_ important.”  You open the front cover to find only bits of adhesive where the still images of Shizuo’s awkward smiles used to be.  When you look up, Izaya is holding them in one hand, and a lighter in the other.  “So important, in fact, that I couldn’t just confiscate it and not say anything, because that would imply tolerance or apathy, and that is not the message I intend to send.”

You’re frozen where you sit, eyes trained on the pictures, afraid to so much as breathe.  “You really had me fooled.  I haven’t had someone pull one over me like that in quite some time.”  His smile is back, and it makes your stomach churn.  “And, you know, usually it’s not so bad.  I like to be surprised now and then; it keeps me on my toes.  But I’m trying to help you.  I saved your life and pulled your mother out of debt, and I really thought you were the type to appreciate those kinds of things.”

“I do,” you whisper.

“Prove it to me.”  When he flicks the lighter on, you jump.  “Listen carefully, because I don’t want to have to say this to you again,” he warns, the little flame reflected in his eyes as the pictures ignite in his hands, “Stay far, far away from Shizu-chan.  That means no sneaking around behind my back by calling or texting him.” He drops the curling, blackened photos to the table and smothers the dying flames. 

You don’t want to cry in front of him, but you feel your eyes burn with tears.

“I could be asking for all sorts of unreasonable things from you,” he says with fake gentleness, “I could be senselessly cruel to you.  I could be punishing you for pretending you were afraid of Shizu-chan.  But I don’t, because I know you’re really a good girl.”  He leans over the table and his hands, which are cold for someone who just held burning photos, brush against your cheek.  “Aren’t you?  I’ve always thought so.  Please don’t prove me wrong.”

You don’t reply.  Just when you thought you’d gotten your anchor back, Izaya pulled it out from under you again, and you’ve only fallen deeper into this mess.  If you can just stay where you are, if you don’t have to worry about your mother, and if it doesn’t get worse than this, then you’d be okay with that.  You don’t want to fight Izaya anymore.  You don’t think you have it in you to run from him, either.  That only makes it worse. 

“I-I am,” you whimper, “I’m…good….”

Izaya’s eyes light up and he reaches across the table to embrace you.  “I know you are,” he coos, “That’s why you’ll do this for me, right?”  You nod.  He pulls away without another word and glances at the windows.  “Oh, getting dark.  You should head home before it gets much later.”  You nod again, and leave.

You don’t run.

You’re done running.

You’re done trying to get back whatever semblance of normalcy you had before Izaya Orihara.  No one can save you from him, and you can’t save yourself, because you don’t want to be saved anymore.  You’re only in debt because of what he’s done to help you, regardless of his reasons for it.  If there’s anyone you can rely on, it’s him, and you’re okay with that now.  He always comes through for you.

You stare at your reflection in the window of the train on your way back to Osaka.  Your eyes are blank and tired, dead tired.  But it’s okay.

You can rely on Izaya.

You _will_ rely on Izaya.

And everything is going to be okay now.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back!

When you turn down a classmate’s offer to study together a few days later, she gently reminds you that finals are coming up, and you don’t know if the surprise shows on your face, but you’d forgotten all about them.  You thank her but you still head home, because you’d rather study on your own. 

You’ve been so wrapped up in this business with Izaya and Shizuo and debt that you completely forgot.  It’s fine, though; it’s not like you haven’t been studying.  It’s just been a little difficult lately, to find time and to keep yourself focused.  You open your textbook on the table and review your notes.

Measure stellar parallax of a distant object using the reciprocal, _d_ (pc) = 1/ _p_ (arcsec) and convert to light years; 1 parsec is 3.26 light years, and one light year is almost 10 trillion kilometers.  The center of the Milky Way galaxy is 26,000 light years away, and it can be inferred that there is a supermassive black hole there.  A lot of people are terrified of black holes because they misunderstand them, not realizing that 26,000 light years is a perfectly safe distance to be at.

You can kind of relate, because you live three hours away from supermassive black hole Izaya where he can’t even touch you, but you’re still afraid, maybe because you’re orbiting precariously in his photon sphere, and any small disturbance could send you on an inward spiral, crossing the event horizon and finding out what it feels like to be ripped into noodle-like shreds by tidal forces.  Due to the gravitational time dilation, an outside observer would only see you falling forever, and never be able to tell when or if you actually reached him, actually fell all the way without any hope of escape. 

They would never know.

And you are kind of getting off-topic. 

Cosmic microwave background radiation is Isotropic microwave radiation from every direction in the sky.  It’s residual radiation from the Big Bang that still has the shape of a blackbody spectrum, but with a characteristic temperature of only 2.73 K, about a thousandth of what it was during the recombination of the universe. 

Your professor told you a story about how its discovery was made in part by a couple of physicists who were trying to figure out a way to bounce radio signals off of new satellites for a phone company, because customers were noticing interference and extraneous noise.  They worked tirelessly to figure out where the interference was coming from, and eventually figured out that it was coming from everywhere, because the sky was faintly glowing in microwaves.

There are a lot of discoveries that are accidents, or searches for other things entirely, like the discovery that the universe is expanding, or pulsars.  You don’t think your ordeal is completely accidental, however.  Your first encounter with Izaya was not left up to chance; you were told where to find him, and you purposefully sought him out, not realizing what you were getting yourself into at the time.  Your discovery did not contribute to science, or the wellbeing of humanity, or anything worthwhile on a large scale, but it’s meaningful to you, a defining moment in your life. 

You don’t regret your discovery.  You don’t think you do, anyway.  Izaya has always been there.  Other people have stumbled onto him before you, most of whom you imagine knew to stay at a safe distance or have already been lost beyond the event horizon and you just can’t tell from where you’re standing.  You’d like to say that you’re not going to be like that, that you’re going to stay in the photon sphere, as close as you can possibly be without getting pulled in, but you know better than that.  Orbits within this area are dynamically unstable.  It’s only a matter of time before you’re sent rocketing inward.

And more importantly, you’ve said something like that before.  “I’m not going to be like that.”  But it’s okay, you’ve found out first-hand that it’s okay.  Izaya is dependable and…and….

You want to say compassionate, but that’s stretching things a bit.  You want to say considerate, but that’s not quite right.  You want to say trustworthy, but that’s just a lie. So you stick with dependable.  He’s dependable.  And you’ve never asked for much, or needed much, so that’s enough for you.

You only realize that you’ve been staring at the same page in your notebook for the past half-hour when your phone goes off on the table, and you check the screen. 

It’s Shizuo.

You hesitate, probably a few seconds longer than you should.  But to your credit, you finally coax your shaking fingers into moving and manage to ignore the call.  This is all about stability, smoothing out any small perturbation that might knock you into an inward spiral.  You need to stay calm, and you need to remove from your life anything that will affect your orbit.

You get in another couple minutes of silence and trying to focus when your phone rings again, and you don’t hesitate this time, quickly moving your fingers over the screen to silence it the call.  There, see?  Not so hard.  You can do this.

Your phone goes off again, and again, and again, and eventually, you just turn it off.

*

When you turn it back on, it almost crashes with the sudden rush of text messages you received while away.

_15:58  
Did something happen?  Are you okay?_

_15:59  
Or did I do something?  _

_16:01  
You have to tell me or I won’t know._

_16:03  
Please say something._

_16:10  
Please text me back._

_16:39  
Does this have to do with Izaya?_

_16:39  
What did he do?_

_16:39  
We can meet up and talk about it._

_16:40  
If Ikebukuro’s not safe, how about Shinjuku?_

_16:45  
I would feel better if I saw you and knew you were okay._

And it goes for hours.  After a brief silence, your phone rings again with a new message, and they keep coming into the early hours of the morning.  You curl up on your bed with your head down and wait for him to give up.

*

You feel awful the next day, and by the time you get out of lecture, you know you need to talk to someone, because you’re not getting any work done this way.  Your options are a little limited, though.  Your classmates don’t know what’s going on, and they probably wouldn’t understand where you’re coming from.  You’ve sworn to never breathe a word of this to your mother, because you’re trying to protect her, not worry her.  You’d rather not talk to Izaya about how you feel because you don’t want him to think you’re ungrateful.  And Shizuo is….

 Shinra is the only person you can think of who knows enough about this and you feel comfortable talking to, so you make the three hour trip and pass through Ikebukuro to get to the local train station. 

Luck is not on your side.  It’s never on your side, it seems. 

At the end of the street, between you and the train station, stands Shizuo Heiwajima, hands in his pockets.  You think he says something like, “We need to talk,” but you’re not quite close enough to be sure, and you turn on your heel and run. 

It feels kind of familiar.  You, running for your life through the streets of Ikebukuro with Shizuo pursuing you, except he’s not throwing anything and his shouts at you to stop or come back hold no rage, only desperation.  Despite your fear, you’re practically a veteran at this now, and you manage to lose him in a crowd, slipping into a shop and ducking into the restroom where you hide out for a few minutes.  He calls you only once, and after that, you leave.

*

You actually try going back to the train station but approach slowly from a side street, and you see Shizuo waiting exactly where he was before, so you end up walking to Shinra’s.  Shizuo’s persistence and the patient but anxious look on his face as he waits, a couple of cigarettes on the ground at his feet to tell you just how long he’s been there, is stuck in your mind.  You don’t want to think about it, because it makes you feel bad, and you can’t feel bad about this.  The only way you’re going to get through this is by sticking to Izaya and making sure you don’t disappoint him, and talking to Shizuo was at the top of his Things You Absolutely Cannot Do list.  You try to push it out of your head.  You try.

The sun is setting on Ikebukuro.  Most people are already home or have just left for the evening, and the closer you get to the residential area, the quieter and emptier it gets.  You wipe the tears from your face.

The wind suddenly picks up, and you think you almost hear the distant baying of horses riding on it.  Someone comes up to you from behind, and you glance at them to see a woman in a black biker’s suit with a yellow helmet.  You’re staring intently at her, and she at you, until she suddenly produces a PDA, types out a message and turns it to you.

“Every time I see you, you seem to be unhappy,” it says.  You self-consciously wipe at your eyes.  You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen her before.  She makes a new message.  “I think we’re headed the same way.  Do you want to walk together?”

You don’t ask her where she’s headed or how she can be sure; you just nod and start walking.  She taps you on the shoulder after a few steps to get your attention.  “You look like you need to get something off of your chest.”

“It’s okay,” you tell her, but she cuts you off when she turns the screen towards you again.

“I’m a good listener, I promise.”

Your pace slows.  Eventually, you both stop walking.  You had wanted to talk to someone who already knew what was going on, but maybe it’s best that you need to tell the story from the beginning, so you do.  You tell her what you told Shizuo a long time ago, about the way you grew up and your compulsion to pay back debt, but you struggle to tell the story when you get to the present.  No matter how you phrase it, it definitely seems like Izaya—whom you do not name, but merely refer to as someone you owe—is the bad guy, and that’s not true.  You’re a victim of circumstance, if anything, and you try to explain it that way, but you can’t quite make it sound the way you want.

The woman listens to you struggle for a while before she finally stops you with another message.  “People are complicated,” it reads, “There’s not a single person alive who doesn’t have faults or good points.  Some just like to hide them.  There are people who I understand but I don’t necessarily like or trust them.”

It sounds like generic advice on the surface, but you try to think about it.  You really don’t understand Izaya very well.  You’ve never really tried.  Sure, you’ve tried to understand his motivations for some of his actions, but you still don’t know him any better than you did when you first walked into his apartment. 

You’re honestly not sure anyone understands him, or that understanding him would even help you.

Before you can think of something to say back, your phone goes off, and you very reluctantly check to see who it is.  For once, it’s not Shizuo, but Izaya, just a text message asking for you to stop by.  You’re fearful all over again, because you can’t think of anything that you’ve done wrong.  You avoided Shizuo the best you possibly could.  Does he expect you to never come back to Ikebukuro again?  It would be difficult if he ever needs any more favors from you.

“I have to go,” you tell the woman, and she begins typing something for you, but apparently changes her mind, because she erases the whole thing and starts over.

“Take care,” the PDA simply says, and you tell her you will.

*

Izaya greets you with only a weak smile and you fear for your life.  “Come in,” he says, and goes to the couch, but when you try to sit down across from him, he catches your wrist.  “Sit over here,” he says, gently enough that it could just be a suggestion if anyone else had said it.  You sit on the cushion next to him.  This is apparently not quite what he wanted, because he tugs on your arm until you fall over and he rests your head in his lap.

He’s stroking your hair.  You’re very confused.

“You’re not in trouble,” he says, and you relax, “I’ve just been having a quiet day and wanted to see someone.”  He says ‘someone’ rather than ‘you,’ and while you’re not offended, you’re puzzled at the choice of words.  “Hitomi isn’t avoiding me anymore,” he continues, “But she’s being rather unpleasant, and that’s disappointing.  I hate rejection.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s venting to you, but you’re not sure what else you would call this.  While you wouldn’t say his tone is sad, he definitely sounds off.  You didn’t think Izaya was the type to be bothered by one person’s rejection, especially since he’s disliked by so many.

“I love humans,” he says quietly, “All humans, without exception.  Monsters are different, but humans I love unconditionally.  I want to say equally, but that’s not quite true.  I do play favorites from time to time.”  You feel a little like a dog with him petting your head, but this is actually the most relaxed you’ve been in weeks. 

“If it were just anyone, perhaps it wouldn’t have bothered me,” Izaya goes on, “But you and Hitomi and people like you are not just any humans; you’re _my_ humans.  I went to the trouble of seeking you out because I thought you might do something interesting.  And sometimes, you do.  Even if you despise me, I’ll still love you just as I do all other humans.  You won’t find this kind of unconditional love anywhere else.”

It’s impossible for you to tell at this point whether or not this is some kind of emotional ploy or a peek into Izaya’s motivations.  Though you’re more inclined to believe it’s the former, you still listen.

Izaya’s hand stills and simply rests on your head.  His voice is even softer now.  “It’s difficult to explain,” he says thoughtfully, “But maybe you understand?”

You don’t.  You nod anyway.

And just like that, Izaya slips away, leaving you lying on your side to stand up.  “I knew you would,” he says, and he’s back to normal like nothing ever happened. 

You still don’t understand Izaya.  You’re not sure if he considers you human so much as he does a prized possession.  Obviously, the way he thinks is not like any of his fellow humans, though you suspect he doesn’t count himself among them.  Despite this, you feel privileged, like you’ve just witnessed something that few others have.  It might not be the case; maybe he’s said these kinds of things to the others.

You think about yourself, and how you set out to talk to someone earlier that day, and wonder if even supermassive black hole Izaya needs someone to listen to him at times.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has enjoyed the story so far, because there's only one chapter left!

You aren’t more than a few blocks from Izaya’s when someone starts following you.

It’s not Shizuo; this person is smaller and quieter, keeping their distance to remain unnoticed.  You turn around a few times but can’t pick anyone out in the crowd.  It’s not until you’re close to the train station that they make themselves known, stepping onto the platform next to you.  You glance down at them, their empty eyes staring straight ahead, posture rigid and nervous.

Neither of you speak, and in the silence, you feel almost comfortable, comrades in your suffering.  The train pulls to a stop in front of you and you get into the same car.  Hitomi waits until you sit down and takes the seat next to you.  You don’t look at each other.

“Did you just talk to him?” she asks.

You nod. 

She seems to lose whatever momentum she had.

“It was me,” you tell her, because you've been meaning to, “I was the one who encouraged you to talk to your friends.  I was dressed like him.  I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says, not sounding surprised at all.  You must not have made a very good Izaya.  She pauses.  “You don’t look like him as much anymore.”

“I’m trying to grow my hair out.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

The train stops.  People filter past you towards the door.  “Going home?” you ask her.  Out of the corner of your eye, you see her nod.

Something brushes against your hand at your side.  Hitomi crushes a ball of paper into your palm and closes your fingers around it.  You look at her, but she keeps her eyes straight ahead.  You put your hand in your pocket.

“I take this train every day,” she says, “Just later during the week.”

She gets off at the next stop, and so does another girl about her age who you didn’t notice was staring at you both intently the entire time.  You see another one in the next train car looking through the window in the door.  When your stop comes, you hurry home.

*

You unfold the paper Hitomi gave you and find that it’s a handwritten note.

 _I never got to thank you,_ it says, _for helping me get away that first time.  Of course my friends were there for me, but if it wasn’t for you, I might never have had the courage to go.  I didn’t know at the time that you weren’t him, but I figured it out since then.  I owe you, and I want to do something for you, too._

It’s disheartening to see those words.  You wish you could talk to Hitomi and tell her that kind of thinking will only get her into trouble.  But something else catches your attention; “for helping me get away that first time.”  Has there been another time since then?

_We have a plan.  I can’t say exactly what, just in case this note ends up somewhere it’s not supposed to be.  But you’re not alone; there is a way out, for all of us, for good._

You can’t help but puzzle over the “we.”  Has she been talking to other people in the same situation? 

_Shizuo Heiwajima wants to talk to you._

After the million text messages, missed calls, and the time he chased you at the train station, you think you already knew that.

_If you want to talk to him, too, write back to me tomorrow.  You know where to find me._

It ends without Hitomi’s signature, not that it’s necessary.  At first, you don’t think you know where to find her, until you remember her last words to you that day; _“I take this train every day, just later during the week.”_

Your finals are coming up.  You’ve got a lot on your mind; your mother’s safety, your own safety, your comfortable orbit in Izaya’s powerful gravitational field.  This is exactly the kind of thing that you’ve been trying to avoid, something that will only cause you more stress and more problems, and that’s assuming you don’t get caught.  There’s no reason for you to put yourself through this, not when you have so much to lose.

You push Hitomi’s note aside to make room for your textbooks as you study, but you keep glancing at it.  You go to the bathroom to splash cold water on your face, and glance up at yourself in the mirror.  Your hair is a little longer now, and you’ve styled your bangs so they don’t look so much like Izaya’s.  You think about how you used to look before you ever met Izaya, and how you used to act.

That person was persistent.  They stopped at nothing to do something as risky as track down a stranger just to say “thank you.”  They worked hard, they got scholarships, and most importantly, they were happy, sure of themselves and the dream they were working towards.

That’s not who you see now. 

You glance over your shoulder at the note sitting on the table.  This is it, this is the disturbance that will upset your orbit.  It could end with your rapid descent and certain death, or it could end with you miraculously reaching escape velocity.  You used to lie to yourself and pretend that you were content with where you were, because it was the only way to keep calm, but you should know better; objects do not hold stable orbits around black holes.  They will eventually go in or out, it’s only a matter of when.

You need to fight against the pull of gravity.  You need to try to get away, just like Hitomi has.  This is your last chance; if it doesn’t work out this time, then you can continue your downward spiral, but just once more, you have to try.  For your mother.  For Hitomi.  For Shizuo. 

For yourself.

You go back out to the living room, tear a page out of your notebook, and start writing a reply.

*

The next day after class, you take the train out towards Izaya’s apartment and wait at the station.  You watch carefully for the girls who you suspect Izaya has asked to keep an eye on you, but don’t notice anyone.  You’d never noticed them before, either, of course.  Hitomi comes around the time you’d expect, after the local high schools have let out, and stands next to you until the train comes.

You sit together again.  “How was your day?” you ask her.  She shrugs.

“Okay, I guess.”

One of her hands is draped across her stomach holding her schoolbag; the other is at her side between you.  You glance around the car one more time before you reach into your pocket and brush your hand against hers.  She rolls the note into a ball and it disappears into the sweater of her uniform.

“What about you?” she asks.

Your smile is full of worry.  “It was alright.”

Hitomi gets off at her stop as usual, and so do a few other people.  You can’t pick out the girl you saw the other day, nor any others that share her eyes, but you may have just lost her in the crowd.  You don’t see the one in the car behind you, either. 

The anxiety is suffocating.

You gave Hitomi your phone number and hope she’ll send you a message once she gets home, because you don’t know if you can wait until the next day for a reply.  She must be in contact with Shizuo, though you’re not entirely surprised; unlike you, she doesn’t have a record of being involved with him, so maybe Izaya doesn’t watch her as carefully.  Then again, Hitomi had strayed from Izaya once already.  She might be getting almost as much supervision as you.

You’d written in your reply the only arrangement you could think of, which was for Shizuo to meet you during the school day on campus, with a particular place and time scheduled the following day, and you’d asked Hitomi to text you what his response was if she got the opportunity, but you don’t hear anything for hours, not when you transfer to another train line, not when you get back to your apartment, not for the rest of the night.

You wonder, with a sinking feeling, if you’re too late.  You don’t know if she’s actually in contact with Shizuo or not; you just assumed.  What if it doesn’t work out?  What if he really has given up?  Or worse, what if Hitomi is actually loyal to Izaya and is just testing you?  You hadn’t even considered that before.

If Hitomi is working for Izaya, then you’ve just sealed your own fate, and there’s nothing you can do now.  You know there’s no point in worrying about it anymore, but that thought haunts you into the early hours of the morning.

*

After your first lecture, you head to one of the study rooms in the astronomy building, where you had hoped to see Shizuo, and wait.  Hitomi never texted you.  You haven’t slept.  As you flip through some flash cards, your vision is blurring and your eyes are shutting on their own, and you lean over the table with your head in your hands and wonder how you’re going to survive your finals like this.

The door to the study room opens and you look up, disappointed to see another student glancing around the room then look straight at you.  “Oh, she’s here,” he says, and steps out of the doorway.  Shizuo comes in after him.  Your heart simply cannot handle all of the excitement and disappointment that happens to you throughout the day.

The student leaves, and Shizuo comes over to the table you’re sitting at wordlessly.  He’s kind of scowling.  You look down at your textbook because you’re too nervous to meet his eyes. 

Shizuo clears his throat, apparently feeling about as confident as you.  “What are you working on?” he asks.

“Studying,” you say, “For finals.  They’re coming up soon.”

“Oh.”  He pauses.  “How’s that going?”

“Good.”  You stop.  You’re not going to lie to him.  “No.  Actually, it’s…it’s not good.  It’s terrible.  I can’t remember anything.  I keep getting distracted.”

Shizuo lets out a grunt in acknowledgement.  You sit in silence a moment longer.  “Maybe I can help?” he says.  You glance at him.  “I’m no astronomer,” he mumbles, “But I could…I don’t know.  Do you have flash cards or something?”

“Yeah.”  You push them across the table.

“Okay.”  He flips over the first one.  “Uh.  Okay.  ‘The apparent shift in the position of one object, relative to another object, caused by the changing perspective of the observer.’”

“Parallax,” you answer.

“Yeah.  Good.”  He turns over another.  “Rule of planetary motion, stating that planets move in elliptical orbits with the Sun at once focus.”

“Kepler’s first law.”

“Got it.  Next.” 

This goes on for almost half an hour.  You don’t know how or why, but Shizuo has this calming effect on you.  His voice is low and soothing, and you’re able to focus when he talks.  When you go through the entire stack, you timidly ask if he can mix them up and read them again.  Then he gives you terms and you give him definitions.  Before you know it, your break is almost over and your next class is in five minutes.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you take your flash cards from him and put your books back into your bag.  “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Shizuo says quietly, “I missed you, too.”

“I don’t want to make excuses,” you say, “Because it was my fault, too, for not being strong enough.”

“No,” he insists, “It wasn’t your fault.  That girl, Hitomi, pulled me aside the other day.  She told me about what happened.”

You nod.  “She says she has a plan.  She was supposed to text me.”  As if on cue, your phone buzzes on the table and your hands fly to it.  There’s a message, but it’s not from Hitomi.

It’s from Izaya.

_13:04  
I know who you’re with right now, and I’m very disappointed in you.  You and I are going to have a little talk tomorrow in Ikebukuro._

He sends you an address.  You start to hyperventilate. 

“He knows,” you choke, “He…he…!”

Shizuo isn’t sitting across from you anymore.  Gently, he takes the phone from you and takes you into his arms, pulling your head into his chest.  “I got you,” he whispers, “Don’t worry.  I got you.”  He kisses the top of your head.  “You’re not going to deal with this alone anymore.”

“But…he….”

“He can’t do anything to me,” Shizuo insists, “Look at me.”  You slowly meet his eyes.  “I’m not going to let him hurt you, okay?  I won’t even let him get close.”

“But my mom—!”

Shizuo kisses you.  It’s chaste, and it doesn’t last long, but you relax in his arms, enjoying the familiar, safe feeling that washes over you.  Shizuo pulls away, but he holds your gaze, his hands firm but gentle on your shoulders.  “You need to worry about yourself for once,” he says, “I’ll do what I can, but one step at a time, alright?”  You nod. 

“Will you…come with me to Ikebukuro tomorrow?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

You hug Shizuo back.  “You never got to know me,” you tell him softly, “What I’m really like.  What I was like before.”

“Yeah?”  He smiles.  “Then I’m looking forward to it.”

There are people staring at you.  Your class started a few minutes ago.  Your meeting with supermassive black hole Izaya to decide your fate happens tomorrow.

But you’re not worried.

It’s less about anchors and more about what you’ve missed, more about what you’re feeling right now; true happiness.  This is not the fake assurance you felt when you spent time with Izaya, the false security you had to talk yourself into.  This is all sincerity and honesty and pure feelings.  You take this feeling and hold onto it with both hands, tuck it into your chest so you can hold onto it forever.

This is the last hurdle.

You make it through this, you’re home free.

If you mess it up, your life is as good as over.

Maybe all you have is Shizuo and Hitomi, which is not a lot compared to Izaya’s massive network, but you’re going to face him head-on without any regrets.


	15. Chapter 15

It wasn’t even a year ago that you first saw the name “Izaya Orihara” at the top of a payment statement as you tried to track down the man who had saved your life. 

You think that somebody might have told you once that going around living like you owe everyone would only cause you trouble later, and you think you probably didn’t listen.  _What do they know?_ you thought once.  They didn’t know you or your childhood, not about your father and the fishing village and the stars he pointed out to you on warm summer nights and not the second-hand winter coat from your neighbors.  And yet, here you are now, finding yourself in the worst kind of trouble for something you thought was so innocent.

Shizuo meets you at the train station after you get out of your last class, and you stand together at the platform.  Your bravado from the previous day has died down, and now you’re just feeling apprehensive, knees trembling as you wait for the train.  Shizuo’s hand closes around yours and squeezes reassuringly, and you glance up at him. 

He gives you a small smile, just as unsure as you are of how this will turn out.  You’ve both had enough dealings with Izaya by now to know better than to expect everything to end smoothly. 

It’s the early afternoon, and the train is relatively empty, but you both remain standing, hands joined.  “Could I….”

Shizuo looks at you.

“Sorry.”

“What is it?”

You take a deep breath.  “Could I, you know, get one more picture with you?  I…lost the other ones.”

Shizuo nods.  You hold your phone out in front of you as he leans in next to you.  Your smiles are both shaky. 

“I never…um, I didn’t….” you begin softly, “Ever tell you…that I…really…really like you.”  Your hands tremble and the phone shakes; you can’t get the picture.

“You’re crying again,” Shizuo tells you, wiping at your face with his hand.

“I’m sorry, I just…I needed to say something.  I’m afraid I might not have the chance later.”

Shizuo cups your face in his hands and leans in; you meet him halfway.  You forget about your phone and almost drop it, but he manages to catch it.  Distantly, you hear the camera click.

*

Izaya is waiting for you at an empty loading zone in the back of the address he gave you, a shady-looking, empty building that resembles a warehouse.  Hidden on all sides by concrete walls with only a narrow path leading back to the main road behind you, you suddenly get the feeling that he could do something terrible back here and no one would ever know.

One hand in his pocket and the other holding a phone to his ear, he’s wearing the same clothes you remember putting on a while back, a lazy smile on his face.  His eyes only widen in amusement when he notices Shizuo behind you.

“Funny,” he says, “I don’t remember asking you to bring Shizu-chan with you.  What made you think that would be a good idea?” Shizuo takes a step forward, a growl that resembles Izaya’s name halfway out of his mouth, when the informant holds his free hand in front of him.  “I wouldn’t come any closer, Shizu-chan.  I’m on the phone with someone important, and if you put me in a bad mood, who knows what I’ll tell them.”

“Who are you talking to?” you ask, your voice coming out in the timid squeak that it usually does in Izaya’s presence.

His eyes shift back to you, and you shiver.  “Oh, you know,” he says, “There’s this really nice older lady working at a small office in Shinjuku, I think she’s a single mother.  I know of an organization looking to purchase a company like that one, but they might need to lay off a lot of the staff to make room for some younger employees.”  He smiles.  “I wouldn’t worry, though, because this same organization is hiring right now!  Although positions are limited right now to…hm, I think _companion_ would be a good title?”

A part of you doesn’t want to think that he would actually go out of his way to have your mother’s company bought out for the sole purpose of forcing her into less than wholesome work.  The rest of you knows he would.

“I don’t understand,” you tell him shakily, “I’ve caused you plenty of problems, haven’t I?  Why do you keep threatening me instead of just letting me go?”

He takes a step closer.  You flinch, and Shizuo looks like he’s ready to step between you, but Izaya’s eyes flick to him and he stays where he is.  Bringing him with you might not have been a good idea after all; if Izaya provokes him into attacking, he may use that as an excuse to go through with his threats.  “Because you’re worth it,” Izaya sighs, “You, like all of my humans, are worth the trouble you cause and the entertainment you provide.  I can’t just let you go, not when I’ve invested so much time and interest into you.”

“What do I have to do,” you say, “So I’m not worth it anymore?”

Izaya laughs.  “Oh, I don’t think there’s anything you would do.  There are things you _could_ do, but you won’t.”  Another step.  “I know everything about you.  I know your limits and your boundaries, how far you would go.”

“You don’t,” you protest weakly.  Izaya takes another step closer, now within arm’s reach.  Shizuo is visibly shaking at your side.

“Yes, I do,” he chides, as though correcting a stubborn child, “You’re the type to trip others so they fall in your place, like you did with Hitomi.  You look out for your mother and yourself, but in the end, that’s all.  It’s not as if I can’t understand it; she’s all you have, right?”

“You’re wrong about me.”  Your throat is tight with fear, but you have to get the words out.  This is your last chance to stand up to him, your last chance to reach escape velocity.  If you blow it now, there’s no way out.  “I-I’m not like that.  I wasn’t.”

“Is that what makes you feel better?” Izaya asks, coming close to take in your expression.  “Pretending that you were a different person before you met me?  It’s still you.  You’ve done terrible things to save yourself.  You’re terrified of Shizu-chan.  You hate him.”

Shizuo flinches at the words.

“I don’t!” you cry.

“You hate what he does,” Izaya goes on, “You hate what he stands for.  And yet, you’re indebted to him, too.  This debt that you feel you owe everyone is what made you decide that you could tolerate Shizu-chan, and what made you trust him.  Debt is what brought you to me, and what brought him here.  So tell me, to whom do you owe a greater debt?”

“That’s not true,” you whisper, tears bubbling up in your eyes, “That’s not why….”

“Why aren’t you answering any of my questions?” Izaya taunts, “Because you know I’m right?”

“Y-you’re not….”

“Because you know, deep down, who you’re actually indebted to?”

“That’s enough,” Shizuo growls, reaching out for Izaya, who carefully leans just out of his grasp.

 “Go ahead,” he says, “Try that again, Shizu-chan, and her life is over.”  He smirks.  “But maybe you just can’t help yourself.  There’s a dead end behind me, after all.  You could have whatever twisted revenge you’ve wanted right now.”

His fists shake at his sides.  You look up at Shizuo and remember how he told you about his uncontrollable anger, about how he sees red and forgets about everything.  This was a mistake, you realize, bringing him here.  Izaya is going to use him against you and ruin both of you at the same time, and it’s all your fault.

“Mr. Heiwajima, please wait,” someone says.  You turn around.  Hitomi is standing a few feet behind you, her expression frightened but determined.  The girl who followed her off of the train is next to her.  “I’m sorry,” she tells him, “But for her sake, can you please let him go just for today?”

Shizuo glances down at you, seemingly remembering himself, and then looks at his feet, ashamed.  “Yeah.  Sorry.”

“Hitomi,” Izaya greets, grinning, “Are you here to ask me to let you go, too?  Maybe you thought both of you together would change my mind?”

“No,” she says, “But more than two might help.”

Another girl Hitomi's age comes, and this one you don’t recognize, and another with her just a little older.  The sound of footsteps rise from a murmur to a road behind you and the space behind you is suddenly crowded with more people than you can count, all girls and young women with nervous, dead eyes, huddling together for strength.  And Hitomi, standing at the front, leads them a few steps closer, coming to stand with you.

“After I figured out it was you who helped me that first time,” she says timidly, “I wished I could do the same thing for you.  I felt like I really owed you.  But I didn’t know what to do, so I started helping other people instead.  I knew if we all got together, we could help one another.”  She glances over her shoulder at the assembled crowd.  “Everyone here feels the same way.  Me, the person who Izaya had watching you, all of the girls from my school who fell in with him…we all want to do something for you.”

Your eyes pass over the crowd, at the anxious faces of these girls, all of them young and frightened but not broken like you’d thought.  There’s pain in their eyes, pain that they all share, something they all have in common.  Izaya must not have expected that they would ever come together, but they have, and it’s because of you.

They are all here for you.

You feel like you might cry again, but not because you’re scared or sad.  Hitomi nods to you, and you nod back, and then you turn to face Izaya again.

He’s not smiling anymore.

It’s the first time you’ve seen this look on his face.  It’s not necessarily worried or upset, just a very slight and pensive frown.

“Well,” he admits at last, “I can honestly say that I didn’t expect this to happen.”  Shizuo, too, is floored, staring at the crowd assembled behind you.

“Izaya,” you say, because you don’t see any reason to be polite and use his last name, “I can’t stop you from doing anything to me or my family.  But you were wrong when you said that all I had was my mother.  I know we might seem harmless, but there are a lot of us here.  I’m sure, between all of us, we can keep each other afloat.  Are you sure we’re still worth keeping?” 

He doesn’t say anything.  You’re holding your breath, waiting for a response.  You want to run or hide, but you won’t, because Hitomi and every girl who suffers like you do is here with you, and you aren’t going to let each other down.

Finally, he speaks.  “Honestly,” he says, “This only makes you more worthwhile.  You’ve managed to surprise me a lot more than a single person has in a while.”  His smile returns.  “But I don’t think I really want to deal with all of you being disobedient.  Next thing I know, you’ll all be plotting to overthrow me, and I can’t have that.”  He sighs in mock disappointment and waves his hands in a dismissive manner.  “Now go away, or I’ll interpret your lingering as having second thoughts.”

There’s a mad stampede out of the alley.  It’s unclear if you actually won this battle, or if there was even a battle at all, but Izaya’s admission is enough to encourage all of you.  A smile works its way to your face as you take Shizuo’s hand and tell him, “Come on!” as you run with the others.  Hitomi is somewhere in front of you, laughing and crying in disbelief.

And behind you, forgotten, Izaya stands with his cell phone in his hand, smiling to himself and shaking his head, having seen something that made letting you all run away worth it.  The screen of the phone is dark; it was off the entire time.

*

You never get another text from Izaya, and eventually feel confident enough to delete his number from your phone.  You’ll certainly never be asking him for help again.  

Hitomi arranges to meet with you again through Shizuo, still wanting to pay you back for saving her and the others, and you tell her what you wished you would have been told earlier.  “I don’t want you to pay me back.  If you feel like you owe me something, then pay it forward to somebody else.”  She takes your words as gospel and spreads it to the rest of the girls you indirectly helped.  You keep in touch with her and the others, because Izaya unfortunately still exists and might someday come back to haunt you.  You've seen girls--some of the same and some different--hanging around Ikebukuro with eyes that tell you that he hasn't stopped assembling a personal collection of broken people.  You always make sure to smile at them and remind them to have a good day.  

Your mother still doesn’t know what really happened, but you’ve decided that you’re going to tell her, in part because you don’t want to keep it from her, and in part because you would really like to tell her someday that you’re dating Shizuo. 

“How did it go?” he asks, leaning against the door to your lecture hall as you come out and stretch your arms over your head.

“I feel pretty confident,” you say, “But I won’t know until the final grades come in.  I’m not worried, though.”

“You have no reason to be,” he scoffs, “You really needed to just get married to that damn textbook, after you spent so much time with it.”  

“No way,” you laugh, “It was just a fling.  I want to spend way more time with you, anyway.”  You blush at your own words as Shizuo smiles at you.  “So, how about lunch?  My treat.”  You start walking towards the station. 

“I could go for lunch, but let me get it.”

“I don’t think so,” you say, “Don’t you remember all the times you already paid for lunch?”

“Didn’t you just talk to Hitomi about ‘paying it forward’ a few days ago?  You don’t owe me lunch.”

“I know,” you tell him, smiling, “This isn’t about debt.  I just want to do it.  Is that okay with you?”

“Hm.  I don’t know,” he teases.

“Okay.  How about this?”  You start running.  Shizuo gapes after you for a moment before he starts running, too.  “Whoever gets there first can pay!” you yell over your shoulder.

Shizuo calls your name in frustration, but you just laugh.  He’s not really mad, of course.  He’s almost as head-over-heels as you are.

He sent himself the picture he took on your phone on the train where the two of you are kissing and set it as his background, so he can’t be all that angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end! 
> 
> Thank you to all of my readers, old and new, for sticking with me until the end. This story was a lot of fun to write. 
> 
> Next week, I'll start up on a new story that switches to Izaya that's a little different from what I've done so far.


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